


Expecto Draconis

by Pondermoniums



Series: Expecto Draconis [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Canon Universe, Character Development, Childhood Trauma, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, Credence Barebone Learning Magic, Credence Barebone Lives, Dark Magic, Darker Plot Than You May Be Expecting, Dragons, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, Forbidden Curses, Kidnapping, Legilimency, M/M, Occlumency, Patronus, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Newt Scamander, Protective Siblings, Rimming, Scars, Sibling Rivalry, Slightly Kinky Credence, Slow Burn, Torture, Wizard Duels, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 185,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pondermoniums/pseuds/Pondermoniums
Summary: If Newt had had a little more time in the subway station, Credence would have lived. This is their story.Credence Barebone is dead to the wizarding world, but in actuality he is alive and under the hidden care of the Goldstein sisters as well as Newt Scamander. The parasitical obscurus has been torn from him, but his magic remains, and they intend to use the best means they have of training it: with a school. First to Ilvermorny and then to Hogwarts, Newt, Tina, and Queenie open Credence’s mind and heart to the world he had been denied for so long.But first stop: the Kowalski bakery.





	1. Prologue ~ Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Part 2 / the actual story Lol
> 
> If you've just arrived, you can certainly start the story here, but I do have an Alternate Ending/New Beginning one shot that kicks things off if you're feeling a little lost.
> 
> There is a slight time gap between that "ending" and now, but it's less than a month. If you're lost, just shoot me a comment :) I'm definitely flying by the seat of my pants with this one. (but when am I not u_u )

“Credence, I never asked you your age,” Newt chimed apologetically as they maneuvered through the crowd. He somehow slithered between people as if they parted for him. Credence bumped into everything if he did not keep up.

“I-I’m nineteen, sir.”

“Oh, goodness,” Newt rotated, completely stopping the flow of human traffic as he turned around to look at him. “You needn’t call me ‘sir’. Although it is a nice gesture, I don’t think I’m quite deserving of it. In England, most sirs actually have the title.”

The noise of complaints was a murmur in Credence’s ears as his eyes wandered, unsure where to look. Those bright eyes were locked on him. Newt huffed a breath, not quite a laugh, and smiled. His teeth bit into his lip a little. “Where we’re going, there are loads more knightly figures than myself, I assure you. They’ve got their own chocolate frog cards and everything.”

Credence was puzzled but he eagerly began, “Where are we go—” but two distinct yelps caught their attention behind them.

“Mr. Scamander! Mr.—” Porpentina Goldstein was calling

“NEWT! Newt, darling! You forgot something!” her sister yelled more effectively. “Some _one_ , more like.”

Beady black eyes poked out of Queenie’s rose pink pea coat. Her thin gold necklace chain was greedily clenched within its small bill. Credence’s eyebrows furrowed with curiosity while Newt sighed. “I thought my case felt lighter.”

“If you noticed you should have come back,” Porpentina scolded.

“And stayed another night!” Queenie suggested in her sweet velvet voice. “Or another week. Jacob has gotten the paperwork done for his bakery! They’re painting the letters today! We ought to pop by for a croissant. Should be openin’ up any day now!”

“Shouldn’t we…” Credence voiced, watching the passersby grimace at the nuisance in the middle of the pavement.

“You’re right,” Porpentina agreed, corralling them out of the way of the New York thoroughfare. Newt observed this to be the threshold of a dental office. “Ah…no one seems keen on metal objects in their mouth today…”

“Do—” Credence blurted before glancing at the no-majs around them. _“You_ don’t have dentists?”

“We do,” Newt supplied, “but their methods are vastly different.”

“The niffler, Newt,” Porpentina reminded impatiently.

He set his suitcase in Credence’s arms, unlatching the buckles only as long as it took to accept the platypus-like creature from Queenie. “I believe this is yours,” he said as he handed back her necklace and deposited the creature into the deep realms within. “Behave. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“An adventure?” Queenie purred.

“Where are you going?” Porpentina contrasted, her doe eyes turned down at the corners in a perpetual look of worry. “You’re not taking Credence with you.”

Newt took his case back and faced her with a mixture of innocence and steadfast determination. “Indeed. He’s joining me of his own free will. I thought this was the whole point of America.”

She shifted her weight in a challenge. “He can’t travel.”

“Why ever not?” Newt questioned. “He’s an adult twice over, by both muggle and wizard standards. Technically he’s already dead. No one can stop a dead man from getting anywhere.”

She sighed heavily. “He can’t leave the country, Newt, he doesn’t have a passport, even a fake one.”

Newt chuckled. “Passports mean very little at Hogwarts.”

Credence looked at him. “Hogwarts?”

“Oh, _Hogwash!”_ Queenie exclaimed. “It’s not better than Ilvermorny.”

“We have our own school of magic here,” Porpentina agreed. “Just as good if not better than Hogwarts.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Credence bloomed. “A school for magic? People like me—like…us?”

Newt smiled warmly. “Yes. If border control ever lets us leave.” His gaze returned to Porpentina. “I thought I’d been given orders to leave the country. If I stay any longer I’d expect your Madame President to knock on my suitcase. I’ve already contacted a teacher there. He is very interested in Credence.”

“You’re only s’pposed-ta leave New York,” Queenie giggled, “not the whole country.”

Porpentina frowned. “A teacher? Not the headmaster?”

“Oh, I have every expectation that he will be headmaster before the decade is finished,” Newt reassured. “He’s certain to find accommodation for him.”

Credence’s countenance fell even lower than it naturally was. “Accomodation?”

“Technically you’re past the age of schooling,” Newt explained. "Wizards finish at seventeen. That doesn’t mean you can’t work and learn under a mentor.”

Porpentina shifted her weight as she questioned, “Again, what is wrong with Ilvermorny? It even has a unique liking for…”

The three of them waited for her to finished but she abruptly pushed Queenie toward Credence. “Could the two of you get a coffee or something? I need to speak with Newt alone.”

“Wait—” Credence voiced.

“Oh dear,” Queenie sighed.

“Wait, Mr. Scamander!” Credence exclaimed, reaching for him desperately. Newt simply let his arm be caught and be pulled close.

“Call me ‘Newt’.”

“I…I don’t want to be separated,” he said quietly, adamantly. “Whatever you need to discuss can be done in front of me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—” Porpentina began but Newt calmly ignored her.

“She fears your recent status as an obscurus may cause some adversity without her supervision.”

Credence was silent, processing until he deduced, “You mean…I wouldn’t be seen as human if they knew.”

Newt’s eyes glittered. “Whether they know or not is entirely up to you. You’re just as human as I am, and Professor Dumbledore knows it—”

“Dumbledore?” Porpentina and Queenie recognized together.

“—I do not intend to trap you at Hogwarts like a secondhand thing. It is genuinely one of the safest and most marvelous places for young wizards to be, but if you decide to pursue Ilvin…Ilvinhorny…”

“Ilvermorny,” Tina supplied.

“Then I won’t stop you. I’ve sought Dumbledore’s counsel because he is the wisest man I have ever known and he has shown me immense kindness when he owed me none. He also has a powerful sweet tooth.”

“He’s legendary,” Queenie admitted.

“Sure, and greatness dances hand in hand with madness,” Porpentina huffed.

“Yes, well, many things are subjective, aren’t they?” Newt finished. “I hope to allow Credence the ability to judge for himself.”

Tina was visibly torn. She looked away, needing to pace in a circle to gather her thoughts. She returned to them with an anxious huff. “It isn’t that I disagree with this idea. I’m not worried about you, Credence, I’m worried about everyone else. Yes, I’m afraid of how you might react to their reactions of you. An adult wizard with literally no training is incredibly odd! Folks will get suspicious, and I don’t like knowing how volatile of a situation this might become.”

“I’ve lived in dragon colonies,” Newt said quietly. “I am not concerned in the slightest. I trust Credence.”

Credence’s eyes widened, feeling too heavy for their sockets. His head bowed deeply before he realized he was still holding Newt’s hand. He looked back up at Porpentina. “When you said Ilvermorny liked something, what do they like?”

Newt perked up. “Is this the school with something to do with a grandchild of Slytherin?”

“Slytherin?” Credence asked.

“One of the four founders of Hogwarts, incidentally,” Newt replied. “The place was like a younger sibling of Hogwarts, as I heard it.”

Porpentina sighed, “Dark things. Ilvermorny has a liking for dark things. The founder of Ilvermorny grew up with dark magic and ran from it. This root has made Ilvermorny one of the most knowledgeable places in the world regarding dark magic. How to live with it, defend against it—”

“Dark magic. Light magic,” Queenie curtailed. “It’s all the same. It’s people who have dark souls. I would know.”

That silenced Porpentina but Newt nodded once. “I couldn’t have said it better. And Credence isn’t an obscurus anymore. That parasitical force was removed from him. There isn’t any reason for people to dislike him.”

“That’s not true,” Credence said quietly.

“Take it from me,” Newt assured, but Credence wasn’t sure what he was taking.

“At least postpone this journey,” Porpentina pleaded. “Visit Ilvermorny first.”

“Oh what a slayin’ idea!” Queenie sang. “We may be able to take Jacob with us!”

 _“No,”_ her sister scolded. “It’s dangerous enough, visiting him. He’s already been obliviated once.” 

“Where is the school?” Credence asked.

“In Mount Greylock,” Queenie grinned.

Credence stared at her. “It’s…in a mountain?”

“It rests on a mountain top,” Porpentina reiterated. “A fog makes it look like any other mountain to no-majs. But yes, the dungeons floors are inside the mountain.”

Credence’s jaw hung. “Dungeons?”

“Basement,” she quickly fixed the same moment Queenie said, “It’s a wine cellar.”

The sisters looked at each other, the former balking, “A wine cellar?”

“Of course,” Queenie laughed. “You mean you _don’t_ know it’s a wine cellar? Everybody knows. The no-majs may be in the middle of Prohibition but we weren’t.”

Credence looked to Newt, who shrugged gently. He smiled, “It’s not like we have tickets to waste.”

Porpentina gaped at him. “You didn’t even _buy_ tickets? Newt, you can’t magic your way onto a ship—what sort of example is this for Credence?”

Newt exchanged a look with the youth in question. Porpentina sighed. “I forgot you’re the man smuggling dozens of creatures in a suitcase.”

They both turned to her, the very pictures of innocence.


	2. Sir Warlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence gets a wardrobe change.

“Morning, honey,” Queenie smiled from the stove. “You hungry?”

Credence nodded silently, unsure where to look. Queenie did not seem to mind. She turned back to the griddle and the pancakes bubbling on the surface, her satin robe moving like water as she danced to the music coming from a small gramophone bobbing on its own on the spice shelf. “Is Newt still inside?”

Credence lifted his head to look back between the double doors at the suitcase on the other bed. A large brick rested on the lid, the buckles flicked open. “Yes.”

“Get him, would ya?” she asked with a wave of her wand. Pancakes floated onto a plate while other dishes drifted to the table.

Credence moved the brick and found the rungs of the ladder leading into the supply caravan. He had only been down here once before, but Newt assured him the animals were friendly.

The niffler was the first to notice him. The ball of sleek fur rushed toward him, sniffing all over for something metallic. He made a gruff sound of disappointment and dived into a toolbox Newt had left open.

As Credence descended the narrow stairs into the rest of the sanctuary, the animals seemed just as uninterested in him. They each seemed to be consumed in their own families, or distinctly hovering near the thunderbird platform, where a cocoon of blankets revealed Newt’s sleeping form under an empty sky. Credence maneuvered around massive scarab beetles and the graphorn foal to the stairs. The bowtruckles were weaving flowers into his russet hair.

“Mr. Scamander?” Credence said quietly. The bowtruckles perked up, their tiny voices rampantly communicating to one another. “Mr…Mr. Scamander?” He reached a hand toward his shoulder the same time one of the plant figures hopped onto the sleeping man’s temple, stomping its little green foot. “Newt?”

Newt’s eyebrows jumped the same moment he hummed and moved his head. The bowtruckle lost its footing and hung onto his hair as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Not late,” Credence answered, stepping back to give him room. “Miss Goldstein’s just made breakfast.”

“Breakfast? Oh…” Newt scrubbed a hand over his face and made his way to his feet.

“You didn’t sleep?”

Pink blossoms stuck up from Newt’s hair like a messy crown as he revealed what looked like a jaguar cub wrapped in a towel against his torso. Credence's eyes fell onto the creature, so Newt explained, “One of the nundu cubs is ill. She needs constant care. Considering an unwell nundu’s breath is what caused three plagues of Egypt, a moment cannot be lost for this little one.”

Credence observed the creature’s large paws and dark gold fur that was speckled with bluish leopard spots. Her irises shined like wet moonstones as her throat engorged suddenly. The sound was like a hiccup.

 _“Accio,”_ Newt uttered after shaking his wand free from his sleeve. A large bottle floating atop an open flame zoomed through the air toward his hand. He gave it a shake and angled it for the cub to latch onto. White foam leaked through her lips but her hiccups calmed and slowly, the bottle drained to halfway before she let go and belched a dark green vapor. Newt quickly flicked his wrist, casting a bubble of water to form around the toxic fume.

“Ah, won’t be long now,” he said as the water swirled and diluted the vapor.

“How can you tell?” Credence asked.

“Dark green is good. Dark yellow is not, and heaven help you if white vapor ever escapes their lips. A nice translucent dark green is what we want. She’s almost there,” he explained softly, bouncing the cub on his arm. Her head sagged against the crook of his elbow. His eyes suddenly lifted to fix Credence in their bright stare. “Breakfast, you said. I’m ravenous. Hold her, would you?”

Credence abruptly found a poisonous nundu in his arms. “W-What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet her, if you like,” Newt said, already striding back toward the supply room. The floor was a mess of tools while a happy niffler rolled among the various metals. “Give her a bounce. Just stroke in the direction of the cartilage spikes.”

Credence followed behind, obediently rubbing a palm over her soft ears. The skin around her neck vibrated as she purred with a wet rumble, her nose sniffling. The bowtruckle in Newt’s hair sat on the curve of his ear as he waved his wand briefly over the mess of tools. They marched back into their chest while the niffler rode inside the curve of a copper spade.

Credence followed him up the ladder and the aromas of hot syrup and fresh fruit greeted them as Newt shut the case, buckles, brick, and twine sealing the domain within properly.

“Oh, what’s wrong with the lil’ darling?” Queenie asked as she poured coffee.

“Nothing to worry about,” Newt said distractedly, rummaging through her pantry for what looked like sugar, cayenne, corn starch, and anise.

Queenie observed this and said, “Spicy licorice, huh? That’s a unique breakfast.”

Newt had sat at the table with a bowl and spoon, haphazardly measuring ingredients in the bowl. “I asked you not to read my mind.”

“Sorry,” she said, “can’t help it sometimes. When you’re real focused, sometimes your thoughts are like you’re shouting. What’s the paste for?”

“Real licorice would be better,” Newt admitted, “but anise is easier to come by at the moment. This will stimulate the nundu’s circulation; get the nutrients to the right places faster.”

Queenie hummed with intrigue before she met Credence’s wary gaze. “You can read minds?” he said quietly.

“She's a Legilimens,” Newt said from the table.

“Most folks gotta learn how to do it,” Queenie shrugged, “but don’t worry, honey, I’m not malicious. I don’t do it on purpose, and anyway, I can’t get an easy read on you. It’s because you’re still a little shocked. Usually his accent gets in the way,” she pointed her thumb at Newt. Then, “Oh. Uh…Oh! Oh no, honey, I—golly, it isn’t helping that I’m reading you now—”

Newt looked up and saw the darkness in Credence’s expression. “What is it?”

Queenie was silent, peeking at Credence. After a moment, he said, “That man, Mr. Graves…I know you said he was someone else but…he knew. He always knew what had happened without me saying anything. He knew when somebody had said something to me or when…I was injured.”

Newt stood and came around the table. He lifted a hip to sit on the corner next to where Credence stood with the nundu asleep in his arms. “Gellert Grindelwald is the most wanted man in the wizarding world right now. He was able to disguise himself perfectly as Percival Graves because he is skilled in occlumency, which is the opposite of legilimency. She can see _in,”_ he glanced at Queenie, “but occlumency keeps people _out._ One of the things that makes him dangerous is that he is very skilled at both. He was able to read your mind while closing his own to anyone who might have been able to suspect him. This doesn’t make you foolish or gullible. It makes him cruel.”

“Yeah!” Queenie chimed softly. “I worked with him for years! If anyone should be feelin’ bad, it’s me.”

Newt shook his head dubiously. “He’s well educated and has worked in magical government. There aren’t many people in this world who could recognize him. His attacks have been focused to Europe; there was no way of knowing he could travel so easily.”

His attention strayed to the nundu. He stroked a finger between her large round ears. “She likes you.”

Credence was at a loss for words, looking uncomfortable as he held the creature as he’d simply been told to. Queenie giggled, “You know what they say about sleeping cats. You can’t move as long as they’re asleep.”

“What happens?” Credence asked with worry.

Queenie and Newt exchanged smiles. The latter reached for the nundu, whose eyes opened with a whine of complaint during the transfer but otherwise she slept just as easily in Newt’s embrace. “It’s just a rule of courtesy.”

“Haven’t had many pets, have ya?” Queenie touched his shoulder and took a seat at the table. “I thought no-majs had cats? Funny, huh? Cat’s are a witch’s animal but they sure love ‘em.”

Credence watched Newt return to his original seat, the cub bouncing on his knee as he reached for the eggs. Credence took the seat next to Queenie, saying, “I only made the pigeons leave the house or killed the mice.”

“Oh,” she purred. “Big difference, lovin' and hating an animal. I keep wanting to get one but Tina won’t allow it. Really it’s the landlady who’s against it, but what she don’t know won’t hurt her, right?”

She winked at him, and Credence looked away quickly. He stared at the table of food. He’d never smelled anything so lovely, or seen so much of it. And there were only three of them to eat it since Porpentina was eagerly working with her newly reinstated status as an auror.

“Go on, sweetie,” Queenie said as she stirred cream into her coffee. “Help yourself.”

Credence looked to Newt, who was distracted by holding a spoon of paste steady for the nundu to lick. Sensing eyes on him, Newt perked up, his bright eyes curious and reading the situation. “Ah! Yes, breakfast. Her strudel’s marvelous.”

Credence hesitated. “W-Which one is that?”

The table was silent. Newt smiled softly. Queenie grinned eagerly and nudged the platter toward him with a mound of dough and baked apple slices bound together like flowers. “Jacob loved it! I hope you do too.”

She sliced off an end for him and he stared down at the two apple roses on his plate. Carefully pushing one onto his fork, he ate it slowly, a warm blush infusing his cheeks. Queenie’s chin rested on the bases of her palms. “You like it? Is it good?”

He nodded mutely, eagerly cutting into the dough and powdered sugar. “Good!” Queenie sang. “Help yourself.”

Their heads turned toward the door at the sound of Porpentina’s voice calling, “Yes, Mrs. Estitido! I’ve only been gone for an hour. I’m flattered you think I could bring someone home this early in the day.”

She breezed into the apartment, casting a silencing spell behind her so their voices did not carry. “I have good news! Madame President is still feeling apologetic and has granted me a few days off from work. That gives us time to visit Ilvermorny.”

Newt glanced at their fireplace. “You’ll need to pick up some floo powder then.”

“Oh we don’t have a floo network,” Tina informed, still wearing her proud smile.

He looked at her with disbelief. “No floo network?”

She shrugged. “Yeah? Fireplaces aren’t as common here as they used to be.”

“What’s a floo network?” Credence wondered.

“Travel by fireplace,” Porpentina explained as she sat opposite him.

He was statuesque. “Travel by…fire?”

“Oh, it’s harmless, really,” she hastily assured. “And we’re not using it anyways.”

“When’s the train depart?” Newt asked around his own bite of blueberries.

“We’re not taking the train.”

He sat back. “Do you have thestrals?”

“Thestrals?” Queenie wondered.

“Winged creatures, similar to horses,” Newt supplied. “Very misunderstood beings. Most people do not know they exist.”

The sisters exchanged looks. “Why not?” Tina dared to ask.

“Well they’re invisible to most people,” Newt said as if it were obvious.

Porpentina sighed. “Just how many magical creatures can be invisible? You know what, never mind. The task now is to get to the school. We’re going by boat.”

Newt was silent. He seemed to be considering something, but he turned back to his breakfast and the creature in his arms. Queenie leaned toward Credence to gently grasp his attention. “The boats fly and the hull looks like just another cloud to no-majs. Remember the banquets, Teenie?”

“I remember the music during them more,” Porpentina smiled nostalgically. “The pukwudgies always said they hated playing but—IS THAT?”

Newt turned his gaze away from the nundu, whose paws were greedily wrapped around his wrist while she licked the spoon. Porpentina looked a mixture of horror and annoyance. “That’s a nundu. I thought you only had one!”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “She's given birth.”

Tina looked appalled. “How many does that make?”

“Four,” he smiled like a happy father.

“But they’re poisonous, aren’t they?”

“Only when ill or threatened,” he defended. “My creatures are happy and know they’re safe.”

“Then why isn’t that one with its mother?” Tina interrogated.

“She’s the runt of the litter. The others pushed her aside so she couldn’t get to the milk. Her malnourishment has made her a little ill. She’s doing well now.”

“What about when the kittens play together?” she worried. “Won’t they get too aggressive with one anoth—”

Newt said patiently, “Three months of my work in the field was devoted to observing these creatures, and I have already adapted their habitat to contain any accidental gases.”

As if on cue, the nundu hiccupped. He stood and went to his case. The bindings unwrapped, he caught the over eager niffler and shoved him back into the contents before casting, _“Accio, nundu formula.”_

The cub’s paws tried to hold the bottle around his hand. “They belch occasionally, especially after feeding,” he explained.

“Three months, huh?” Tina said dryly, but it was a sign of her trust that she shoveled peaches and eggs into her mouth. Credence watched him sit on the bed and glanced at his unfinished breakfast. Standing, he brought the plate to set on the mattress.

Newt looked up at him, surprised. “Thank you very much.”

Credence nodded. Newt waited for him to speak, but when nothing came Credence silently returned to the table. Newt watched him push apple slices around his plate until he finally said offhandedly, “Credence, you’ll be needing clothes before we go, won’t you?”

The youth lifted his head in that shy, cautious way he had. “Yes,” he admitted.

“We can sew—” Tina began, but Queenie’s gave her a hard look with a sudden press of her foot under the table.

“I’ve a number of things I can acquire from muggle markets. It will be a productive errand. We’ll leave as soon as you’re finished.”

Credence’s gaze jerked to his half-finished strudel. “I-I can be ready now…”

Newt had already descended into his suitcase. The squirming whines of a niffler could be heard along with, “No. No, absolutely not. You are not to be trusted. You can’t have our hostesses’ heirlooms for your shiny pile.”

Queenie giggled and tapped Credence’s plate for his attention. “Eat up, hun. You’ll need the energy to keep up with the likes of Newt Scamander.”

Credence got the strudel down along with a bit of toast before he donned his waistcoat, jacket, and tie. He’d placed his shoes under the bed out of habit, and when he went to retrieve them, Newt's head emerged from the case. “Ready?” he whispered.

Credence wondered why he whispered and simply nodded. Newt climbed fully out of the case. “Lovely,” he said, and with handle in hand, he crossed the room and took ahold of Credence’s arm—

“Wait!” Tina exclaimed, but the pair were already gone.

*******

They apparated among the trees in Central Park, Credence gasping for air.

“Sorry, so sorry,” Newt apologized, helping him to his knees. “I’ve forgotten what the first apparition is like. It can be very overwhelming. Just breathe, you’ll be fine.”

Credence coughed profusely and Newt frowned at his waistcoat. He said something that was lost on Credence’s ears but he saw the buttons fly from his raiment. His tie slithered off his neck and the topmost buttons of his shirt popped open. Startled, he fell back on his rear, and stared up at the wizard’s expectant eyes. “Better? You looked horribly stifled. Anyway, now we have items to work with. I can’t imagine you doing much accidental damage with a button.”

Newt strode away from him as if to check to make sure this spot was ideal. He rubbed his palms together and looked at Credence. “You didn’t think I’d make you to wait until Ilvermorny to practice magic, did you? Let me just make some preparations.”

Credence climbed to his feet and watched Newt holding his arms like a conductor. He murmured under his breath while walking in a broad circle. Credence noticed he often said things more than once until he finished and returned to him. “There. Tina will have my head if another muggle sees something they shouldn’t. Now, without further ado.”

Newt offered his wand to Credence. His shoulders hunched anxiously while he swallowed and took the handle. He startled again when Newt’s hands landed gently on his shoulders.

“Relax. The wand doesn’t bite unless you tell it to.”

That reminded Credence, “Where’s the…the nundu?”

“I returned her to her mother,” Newt informed. “No one takes care of a cub like its mother, and she was strong enough to keep her place while suckling. I’ll check on her when we’re finished.”

He opened his palm to reveal Credence’s buttons. “The spell is a levitation charm. Simple enough, but it does require some precision.” He smiled, his teeth on his lip. “But this is where it gets fun. Now, move the wand like my hand.”

Credence watched his finger swoosh in a crescent shape and then drop as if pointing down on something. “We call this the ‘swish and flick’. Go on, give your wrist a turn.”

He did, slowly and stiffly. Newt's weight shifted. “So this is why it's taught this with a feather…think lightly—a moment…”

He tossed the lid of his case open and reached his arm in all the way to his shoulder. He withdrew a long peacock feather with a flourish before shutting the case with a _snap._

“See how this moves?” Newt bobbed the ornate eye back and forth. “You’re doing it fine, it just needs a finer touch. What you’ll be moving will be on air, so you must think like air. Let’s move again.”

He planted his feet in a way that suggested a battle more than charm practice. Using the feather as a wand, he demonstrated again. Credence watched the eye and tried again. “I think you might be ready,” he proffered the buttons. “Pick one, and let the flick point to it. The spell is _Wingardium leviosa._ Say it first.”

Credence licked his lips. “Wingardium…”

“Leviosa,” Newt nodded.

“Wingardium leviosa…”

“Stress the second syllable in each word.”

“Wing _ard_ ium levi _os_ a.”

Newt wiggled his feather to indicate Credence to move his wand. Together they moved and said, _“Wingardium leviosa!”_

Nothing happened.

Credence appeared completely crestfallen and a little angry until Newt chuckled, “The class on this was an hour of yelling and very few feathers in the air. Be patient with yourself. Once more.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

Newt considered that, and pondered aloud, “It does take a unique balance of confidence and request. Most students tend to believe that because they’ve got a wand and the words, the thing ought to do as they say, but magic is more complicated than that. Remember _lumos?”_

Credence nodded.

“You felt it, your want and desire for light, and your magic brought it to you. You’d like these buttons back, but you’re in no hurry. They’re simply…on the wrong hand. Have a go.”

Credence looked at the feather in his other hand distractedly as he said, _“Wingardium leviosa.”_

The peacock feather lifted out of Newt’s hand, causing a slight “Oh!” to come from his lips. Newt gazed at the lithe green, blue, and bronze feather with eager surprise, and then he laughed. Not the shy, teeth on his lip smile he usually wore. A bright grin and warm laughter bubbled from him. Credence dropped the feather.

“Wonderful!” Newt beamed. “Absolutely marvelous.”

“It wasn’t the buttons…” Credence voiced warily.

“That doesn’t matter,” Newt assured. “This is progress nonetheless. It’s my fault for pushing the buttons and not the feather. Really, just stupid of me.” He picked up the feather and pocketed the buttons. “Would you like to go again?”

Credence looked shy but happy. “Yes,” he nodded gently.

Newt balanced the feather across his finger. “After you, then, sir warlock.”

*******

Credence kept pace with Newt as he strode through New York. For a man who kept his head leveled toward the sky, Newt navigated the streets remarkably well.

“You called it a charm,” Credence said. “Is there a difference between charms and other spells?”

Newt blinked as if he had been staring for too long. He looked at Credence as if he had forgotten he was there. “What a good question. I suppose charms are more about manipulating an object. Spells are rather singular, like having water pour from your wand—I’ll show you that one later,” he promised. Credence seemed on the verge of smiling but he was not used to forming the expression on his face.

“NEWT!”

“Impeccable timing,” Newt chimed, lazily turning around to face Porpentina. Queenie smiled kindly from behind her. “I was just about to purchase—”

“Where did you go?” she interrogated.

“Just Central Park,” Newt said.

“Why?”

“Do I need a permit for fresh air as well?”

“Don’t avoid the question!” she scolded. “Credence, what has he made you do?” Her eyes and jaw dropped to his clothing. She whirled on Newt. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.” He reached into his pocket. “I have the buttons right here.”

“And why aren’t they on _him?”_

“Well it’s not like he’s going to keep these clothes,” Newt defended. “They’re so dreadfully dark.”

“I agree,” Queenie declared, stepping forward to turn Credence by the shoulders. “You’re not mourning for anything, huh? And you’ve got good color to ya. I think a lot of colors would look beautiful on you. Come on, Teenie, let’s go shopping!”

Tina sent another accusatory look at Newt but he was far from apologetic. They followed Queenie to her desired shopping district, but as soon as the shop bell rang, Credence planted his feet. “I-I can’t—I don’t have any money. This is too much--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Queenie hushed and gave him a push in the direction of the shirts. “Now, you’ll need a good white one, to be sure, but how about a pink one? Or even a dijon…”

“Dijon?” he tried to ask but Queenie filled his arms with shirts and sent him into a dressing room.

“Try those and the ones you like will be tailored.”

And so progressed the construction of Credence’s new wardrobe. When the shopkeeper tried to attend them, Queenie politely but firmly refused. He tried to take the shirts from Credence’s accepted pile but Queenie was too quick. “I am the tailor here,” he said impatiently.

“Sure ya are, doll,” she smiled, “but I’m a bit faster.”

Under her crossed arms was her wand. In the dressing room, Credence jumped when the shirt suddenly tightened around him and loosened, finding the right fit to his form.

“I think it’s about time for waistcoats!” Queenie said and then, “Sorry, honey, you’re slowing us down.”

“Queenie!” her sister exclaimed, but the shopkeeper was already asleep and the door was locked, the sign flipped to _Closed._ Porpentina quickly cast an enchantment over the windows so the no-majs wouldn’t see clothes swimming through the air.

“How d'ya feel about red?” Queenie asked.

Credence emerged in his untucked shirt to see the deep red waistcoat she was holding. He shrugged but said. “It’s bright.”

“Isn’t it!” she grinned. “It will go nice with your dark hair.”

He let her slide the garment over his arms and the buttons found their holes on their own. His eyes found Newt sitting against a hatbox display. Far from attentive, Newt was hunched over the case in his lap, writing energetically in a leather bound notebook. The bowtruckle he called Pickett rested among the flowers that still hadn’t been removed from his hair.

“This one,” Queenie grasped his attention. Credence faced a blue coat, not unlike Newt’s but dark as night. “And to finish it up…actually…no tie. You look kinda dashing without it.”

He glanced between her and Porpentina. “Won’t I look unfinished without one?”

Queenie hummed thoughtfully and then summoned, “Newt.”

His head jerked up and he rubbed his eyes. “Yes?”

“Tie or no tie?”

Credence felt Newt’s eyes find him and his bare throat. He felt vulnerable but not as uncomfortable as Newt looked. “Ehm…”

“I know!” Queenie gasped. With a wave of her wand, dozens of chains flew out of drawers. Credence trembled against the attack but they each stopped and took their turns in front of him for Queenie to see how they would each look on him. A loud thump came from Newt’s direction as he held tight the lid of his case.

“Niffler?” Tina guessed.

“Shiny things,” Newt confirmed.

“This one,” Queenie decided. Three thin golden chains hung between the corners of Credence’s collar. The endpins wiggled through the fabric and clasped against his skin. She stepped back to admire her work. “You look quite dashing. I think it adds a little extra glamor. What do you think, Teenie?”

She shrugged but her smiled said enough. “It’s not my opinion that matters. How do you feel, Credence?”

His palm slid over the soft velvet of the waistcoat. “It feels expensive.”

Queenie laughed. “It’ll last forever, though.”

She gave him a nudge toward the full-length mirror. He swallowed, disbelieving the reflection staring back at him. “Trousers!” Queenie realized. “You’ll need a couple pairs of those before we go—”

“Black ones,” Tina suggested. “Don’t overwhelm him. What do you think, Newt?”

He looked up again as if he’d rather be anywhere than a clothing store. His lips pressed together, trying to smile but he admitted, “I’m not overly fond of chains.”

Queenie turned from where she was selecting trousers. “It’s not like he’s gonna be chained to anything. It’s just a little decoration.”

“You’re right, of course,” Newt amended. “Goodness knows you’ll be his first target if my niffler gets out. I’m counting on you to catch him.”

Credence had nothing to say. He hardly had the time to anyways as Queenie gave him a fresh pile to try on. They each magically squeezed to his size but Queenie called through the curtain as he donned the last pair. “How’s the fabric?”

“Fine,” he emerged, “but what about belts?”

Queenie turned on him. “Do they not fit? I was sure I’d cast right—”

“You won’t need it,” Tina finished, her features gentle. Credence held her gaze and nodded.

Queenie sighed with finality. “I think I’m done here. Newt, you’ve got room in your case, dontcha?”

“Hm? Yes, of course,” he said, standing. He tucked his notebook inside his coat and Pickett swung down to hide behind his lapel.

Before they left, Porpentina said, “Newt, are you aware of the state of your hair?”


	3. Frank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's events were inspired by this deleted scene ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG8CGM5iH8E

“What about Jacob?” Queenie complained.

“We need to go,” her sister insisted. “If Newt stays any longer in New York then the MACUSA will know.”

“But…Jacob will be sad if he doesn’t see Ilvermorny.”

“He won’t _know,”_ her sister rebuked.

“What if I just…moved things along? Newt’s already given him the eggshells, and Jacob has his loan. Why shouldn’t the bakery open a little sooner?”

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t already moved this faster than it should have,” Tina accused. “No-majs don’t process paperwork as fast as Jacob got that loan.”

Credence chewed his meatloaf, tasting cranberries and pepper as he listened. It was…strange to hear about mundane things from the witches’ perspective. He still wasn’t entirely sure who this Jacob was, but—

A clasping sound turned his head to the bedroom, where Newt was just under the lid of the case, installing a handle so someone within could shut the lid. In the small space of the case’s body, he rotated and withdrew his wand from between his teeth so he could magically adjust the clasps. Pickett climbed out and waved his green limbs, his high pitched voice sounding like a scolding.

“Yes, yes, I know, Pickett. Twice to the left, and once—well if you can do it better, go on then,” he finished. The leaves atop Pickett’s long form bobbed merrily as he set to work. Newt descended back within the case until Pickett seemed to finish and realized he’d gone. He leaned over the lip of the case, yelling until Newt’s hand appeared. Pickett climbed onto his shirt cuff and they disappeared.

Credence swallowed his last bite and took his dishes to the sink, intending to wash them but Queenie stopped him, “Leave that, honey. I’ll get it.” He hesitated and she simply laughed and gently bumped him with her hip. “Really, go on.”

She winked and nodded toward the case. “I think he’s used’ta bein’ alone. Doesn’t mean he should be, though. Go on.”

He obediently passed into the bedroom and climbed downward. The caravan door was closed, and Credence guessed it was because of the niffler. The platypus floated within a bubble of captivity between the habitats; Newt had included jewelry and coins for him to nuzzle and lick.

Credence startled when Newt came behind him with a wheelbarrow. “Hello, Credence, excuse me,” he greeted distractedly before he paused. “Actually, bring that black crate, would you?”

Credence found the one he meant. Newt had already left the wheelbarrow and jogged up a short set of stairs to a stone entryway. Credence passed through and felt a shift in the air; what was once a dark closet was now a deep cave, complete with dripping stalactites and stalagmites—

Newt blocked his path. “How are you with runespoors?”

Credence blinked. “What?”

“Snakes,” Newt renamed.

“I…wouldn’t know…there aren't many of those in New York City.”

Newt nodded a bit too much. “And if one had three heads?”

Credence was not sure how to answer. “You said everything down here was safe.”

“Yes I did,” Newt confirmed, and walked away. Credence followed with the crate until the cave opened up into a much larger cavern, complete with sinkhole openings letting in artificial light—

A soft rustle lifted Credence’s jaw as he looked into the high shadows. A black tongue shot out, tasting the air. Credence realized a pair of eyes was watching him from behind a stalactite while another head was resting on the floor. The dark space in which the tongue was had a flash of light: the glisten of saliva on fangs as the third head emerged—

“NO! No! What have I told you?” Newt suddenly stood in front of Credence. The fangs retracted and the heads all aligned to look down at Newt. “Three legs or more! Not two! You know humans give you indigestion!”

To Credence’s immense perplexity, two of the heads bumped against the one who'd shown its fangs. He jerked slightly when the crate left his arms. Board by board, Newt magically dismantled it and spiders ranging from the size of quarters to his head tumbled out. Credence startled as a much smaller serpent wiggled its way behind him to the meal.

“I am so sorry,” Newt apologized, pocketing his wand. “Sometimes it’s the creatures as much as the people who need educating.”

Credence might have thought him mad for turning his back on the giant snake, but Newt was already marching onward through the cavern.

“W-When you said snake…I thought you meant smaller,” Credence said, peeking back at the massive beast. Each of its heads was the size of an automobile.

“That’s my fault,” Newt apologized again. “Snakes are among the subtle magical creatures, similar to cats, who interact with muggles. I forget that you otherwise haven’t seen the larger variety. These fellows are from the Gobi Dessert, China. They’re native to Africa, of course, but this nest was far from home; trafficked for their venom, scales, and bone. Their red scales make for armor as good as dragon scales. Their bones and heartstrings make good wands.”

“Wands?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Newt said as he sifted through a great deal of hay on the stone floor. “Looking at Quinn, there, you wouldn’t believe it, but each head serves a task. The left is the navigator, the middle the dreamer, and the right is logic, as well as the most venomous. The best runespoor wands have either the heartstring or a bit of bone from each head. Traffickers of course separate the bones into many mediocre wands sold at high prices. Wands too poor and prices too high for the sacrifice of such a noble creature.”

He paused and Credence followed his gaze toward the smaller serpent chasing after spiders. Around the right one’s head was a large paper mache cone made from newspapers, and each head seemed to want to go in a different direction.

Newt commented dryly, “Well…it can be argued whether three heads are better than one. When I found him, the scales around the base of his head were gone. You see, the right head can be rather critical of the other two, and it’s common for them to bite it off altogether. We all so dreadfully fear judgment, but none is so deadly than our own. This makes runespoors endangered enough as it is, without the help of illegal traders. You can see he’s trying to get a bit of revenge. The cone stays on until they learn to get along.” 

Newt found what he wanted in the hay: an empty eggshell that shined with flecks of copper. “Ah, here we are. Ground runespoor shells make wonderful medicines.”

His stride picked up once again and they left the runespoors to their meal. Credence asked behind him, “What do you mean, the middle head is the dreamer?”

“Well we’ve each got a bit of imagination, a spontaneous urge, and a sense of logic within us,” Newt explained without looking back. “Runespoors are the cousins of dragons, and are just as intelligent. The middle head can sleep for weeks, simply lost in thought.”

“Why isn’t that the one bitten off?” Credence blurted.

Newt turned around, causing Credence to stumble to a halt. “Because we’d all go mad with it,” he said, and recommenced his path toward the mooncalves. They walked under enchanted moonlight along the hills and ocean waves that stuck to the ceiling of this corner of the case. Credence craned his neck to see grindylows and glowing squid drifting over their heads.

“How are wands made?” he asked wistfully.

“That depends on the wand maker,” Newt said as he scooped mooncalf dung onto a spade. Even as he collected the small black pellets, sprouts of various plants curled out of the fertilizer. “The process is rather simple while the execution is more complicated. Usually it involves an organic, volatile magical component encased in a less dangerous medium for us to handle.”

He stood erect to fish his wand out to hand to Credence. “Wand cores are different around the world. In England and Europe the common ones are dragon heartstring and unicorn hair. Less common are thestral and veela hairs. Some might have a feather from a phoenix or thunderbird. Really, the possibilities are endless. Then any manner of wood, bone, or metal can be conductive for your magic.”

Credence rolled the wand between his fingers, examining its almost gold tip that faded to a warm brown, only broken by a vein of blue along the top of the seamless handle and a hollow cavity in the end. This hollow space was bright silver, like mother-of-pearl. “What is yours made from?”

“Oh. Mine,” Newt blinked several times, taking his wand back only to balance it on his finger. “Mine doesn’t have a core.”

Credence’s gaze perked up. “But you said it had to have one.”

Newt’s head cocked to the side and he shrugged, uncomfortable. “Mine doesn’t. The wand chooses the wizard.”

“What does that mean?”

Newt’s lips pressed together as he looked at his wand instead of Credence. “When we go to buy our wands, it isn’t a choice on our part… The cores I’ve mentioned all come from animals. Intelligent, magical creatures whose power lives on in the wands. Their magic binds with the witch or wizard, so they are the ones who choose. They’re alive as much as an inanimate object can be. I…I’m not the person to explain this. When we arrive in England, we’ll go to Diagon Alley.”

“D…Diagon Alley?” Credence worked to pronounce.

“A shopping district in London strictly for wizards,” Newt strode past him.

“And there are wand makers there?”

“There’s Ollivander’s,” he said, depositing the dung into the wheelbarrow.

“Only one?” Credence asked skeptically.

“There are others, to be sure,” Newt assured. “I am almost certain Queenie and Tina will push you to get your wand from Ilvermorny.”

“Are their wands good?”

Newt lifted his head as if this had never occurred to him. He admitted, “I wouldn’t know. The Goldsteins’ wands seem to do well enough for their wielders, at least.”

Newt strode to the caravan door and stopped. Credence watched him look toward the Arizona habitat and the large metal framework meant for a very large bird. Newt then reached for his coat hanging on one of the hooks and shoved his arms through it.

“Where are you going?”

“To the sky,” he rushed into the caravan.

“I’ll go too,” Credence half-declared, half-requested as he watched Newt fish something green from the pocket of his coat and squeezed glowing fluid into a large vial. “What is that?”

“Sweeping Evil venom. Frank loves it.”

“Frank?” he repeated but Newt was already stoppering the bottle and pocketing his things.

“Tina won’t like this.”

“Won’t like what?”

“You coming with me. She’s very protective of you.”

“Are you going somewhere dangerous?”

“Any place populated with humanity is dangerous,” Newt replied as if this was answer enough. He expertly climbed out of the case, and the moment Credence stepped out, the case snapped closed, and Newt apparated out of the apartment. Tina and Queenie looked at him from the table.

“Where’s he off to this time?” Tina asked mildly.

“He didn’t eat any meatloaf,” Queenie realized sadly.

“I don’t know,” Credence admitted.

Tina looked at him again and then at the case bound in twine. “He didn’t take it with him? He can’t be far then.”

*******

Newt emerged in the cold night air. The gravel on the rooftop crunched under his boots. Clouds of various densities moved quickly over the sky. For an apartment building in a densely packed city, the Goldsteins’ roof was in a spacious area.

“Perfect,” Newt said to no one, vigorously rubbing his wand between his hands to warm it. Taking it in hand, he cast charms over the encircling windows, blinding the neighbors to anything magical. Out of an interior pocket, he withdrew a wooden flute, and before placing it on his lips, he cast a golden line of lightning into the sky.

His melody was quick but charming, swooping between low and higher notes. Only eyes cast upward would see the flash of gold rippling through the clouds. Newt’s fingers danced over the carved holes, their summons slowing as talons descended over the roof of the building. The concrete siding cracked as the talons punctured it. A beak as large as Newt’s head thrust forward, knocking the flute aside to nuzzle him.

“Yes, yes, hello,” Newt smiled, letting his face be pushed this way and that. “I missed you too, Frank. Not such a quick goodbye after all.”

*******

“Uhm…” Queenie voiced softly by the window. Tina and Credence glanced at her, and then focused on the pair of tails swishing in front of the glass. “I think Newt is on the roof.”

Tina sighed. “Oh jeez—Credence?”

He was already out the door.

*******

“You’ve grown,” Newt crooned. The gold and ivory feathers glistened in the darkness as he stroked Frank’s cheeks and combed his fingers through his feathers. Frank wiggled a little as his feathers were ruffled between his eyes.

“A real sky is good for you, eh? But you must head west. It’s warmer there and you won’t need to create static electricity anymore. You can’t keep the skies of New York cloudy forever—what is it—Oh!”

Those golden orbs darted past him, and Newt followed their line of sight until he completely rotated and faced Tina, Credence, and Queenie by the roof’s entrance. “Ehm…” his throat cleared, “Good evening.”

“I forgot how big he is,” Queenie grinned.

“I thought he’d be long gone, by now,” Tina voiced. “How’d you know he was still in New York?”

“Birds grow attached, silly,” Queenie said. “Remember grandpa’s owls?”

“The clouds,” Newt informed, “if one knows what to look for—no, please, stay there. He’s not fond of strangers.”

Credence stopped on the gravel, in awe of the thunderbird. Newt lurched against the knock on his shoulder from Frank’s beak. Newt turned and his coat flapped open from the creature searching him.

“Fine, all right, I know what you want.” Newt uncovered the large vial of venom. “Go on, then,” he said, and tossed it high. Frank’s wings sent gusts through their hair and coats as he dove upward. He caught the venom in his beak and continued to rise until he vanished among the clouds.

Newt adjusted his coat and rotated as if he suddenly remembered something. He looked between each of their hands before he found it as Queenie stepped forward with the suitcase. “You didn’t think we’d leave it alone, did ya?”

He nodded deeply, accepting his case. “Thank you.”

And then he apparated back into the apartment, leaving them on the roof.

Tina sighed with her hands on her hips. “Has he told you how we met him?” she said offhandedly to Credence. He shook his head. “He was breaking the law. Several, actually. It’s not a surprise the English minister recognized him immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kowalski Bakery opens next chapter!


	4. Kowalski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kowalski Bakery opens and Credence makes a visit to someone.

Credence watched Tina chew her hotdog angrily. She had mustard on her lip. The line in front of the Kowalski bakery was already down the block despite it being its first day.

“I told her not to speed this up,” she said. “Don’t speed it up! Instead the place opens today. We could have been in Ilvermorny by now.”

Credence was not sure if she was actually speaking to him. He looked to Newt, who was leaning slightly to see into the bakery. “Who is he?”

Newt looked at him but Tina answered, “A no-maj Newt met at the bank. He helped us a lot but he was obliviated in the rain.”

“Yes, your Statute of Secrecy,” Newt recalled, his eyes returning to the bakery. The air was fragrant with orange and almond.

Tina’s voice was gentle. “I wasn’t any happier about it than you were.”

“You know my thoughts on the matter,” he finished.

“Sure, but how different is it in Britain?” she ventured.

Newt considered it. “Well, the differences are small but the results are paramount. We’re allowed to have conversations with muggles, even if there might not be much to say. Those who are successful in this may befriend them, even marry them. There are ways to share your life with non-magic people, although a great deal of paperwork is involved. A registry of muggles is kept who have been made aware of the magical community. The worlds remain strongly divided but it’s not the segregation America has perfected.”

“Hey,” Tina barked.

“She’s going in,” Credence curtailed, watching Queenie pass through the entrance.

Newt eagerly craned his neck to see into the shop despite their place on the opposite side of the street. “I gave her two sickles. I do hope he hasn’t run out of kolache.”

Tina made a face. “Do you know what American, no-maj currency is?” And then she turned fully to him. “Have you been encouraging this?”

He glanced at her. “No…of course not.”

“Newt.”

“Yes?”

“Tell me you haven’t been helping Queenie open this bakery a month early.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see the point of confirming one way or the other,” Newt said.

Tina seemed ready to say more but Credence voiced, “Is that him?”

They looked to find Queenie gently shrugging through the queue blocking the entrance with Jacob in tow. “Yeah, thanks for comin’! Thanks for comin’, Andrew will take care a’ye. Thanks, folks…”

They trotted over the street and Queenie presented Jacob on her arm. “He remembers me!” she said with glee, albeit in a whisper.

Tina was speechless. She and Newt exchanged glances before she uttered, “What? Remembers—you remember?”

Jacob’s smile faltered but he said, “Well sure, how could I forget her? I mean it’s a little fuzzy, and I think I know your faces too. Why are we whispering?”

Tina looked to Newt again, as he inhaled with an epiphany. “The nature of the venom uniquely focuses on bad or unpleasant memories when it is administered in low doses. I imagine Jacob has a great deal of shock still to process in regards to myself. And…well…” he peeked at her, “you can be rather stern but not altogether unpleasant.”

“Thanks,” she said bluntly. “What does this mean for the rest of New York, though?”

Newt did not seem worried at all. He shrugged a little, “I think Queenie’s umbrella charm blocked most of the venom from reaching Jacob during the initial contact with the rain, which would be the most pivotal time.”

“I’m sorry…” Jacob interrupted with a glance to Queenie. “Who are…?”

She eagerly introduced, “This is my sister, Tina.” He offered his hand and Tina shook it with a smile. “And this is Newt Scamander!”

“Hello, Jacob,” Newt said pleasantly, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on your bakery.”

“Thank you,” he returned gratefully and with no small amount of incredulity. “The place had to be fixed up—and I mean, a real fixer-upper—but they gave me a call sayin’ the paint was dry. They told me it'd take a month, two maybe, not...a night,” he chuckled.

“Human ingenuity, huh,” Tina uttered.

“Yeah, sure,” Jacob agreed, then looked down at the hand Newt was still shaking. “Uh,” he began to say. Newt abruptly took his hand back and avoided his gaze, Jacob looked at Newt with fresh eyes. “You know, I think I do remember you a little better now.”

He then turned to Credence. “You’re a fresh face, though. Nice to meet you. Jacob Kowalski, call me Jacob.”

Credence’s lips parted as he stared at the hand offered to him. Jacob waited patiently until the allotted seconds for a handshake had passed. “Are you alright, buddy? You’re lookin’ a little pale. Can I get ye anything?” His other hand swooped a thumb toward the bakery. “Anything you like, on the house. Any friend a’Queenie’s is a friend to me.”

Credence gently placed his hand in the one Jacob still offered him. “Strudel.”

“Strudel?” Jacob shook warmly and grinned. “Yeah, I got some strudel. Three flavors so far. Come on over…”

“Credence.”

“Credence, nice to meet ya. Watch the cabs, they think they own the block.”

Evading traffic, they crossed the avenue and shrugged their way into the bakery. A young man in a chef’s hat with acne manned the cash register while Jacob gave them a general tour. “Fillings are in the display case ‘cause they spoil easy, strudels are right here, muffins on the shelves, and everythin’ else is in the window. I got some sugar sticks here too if you want ‘em.”

Credence looked at the wooden skewers of crystallized sugar as well as the sugar cane standing in tall jars of syrup, sparkling water, mint leaves and slices of limes. He startled when Jacob offered beside him, “Ya want one? I’m a New Yorker, born and raised, but while I was in France I met a southerner who spent his earnings on sugar cane every chance he could. This stuff was hard to come by during the rations. He taught me this recipe.”

Easing one of the stalks out of the jar, he offered it as well as a doily to Credence. “You just kinda…gnaw on it but it’s a real treat. I'm hopin' to have a bunch a’these for summer.”

Credence lifted the dripping end to his mouth, tasting sweetness and lime. His teeth pushed into the fibers of the sugar cane, surprising him by filling his mouth with juice and more syrup. The doily caught the drippings down his chin.

“Ah…Jacob?” Newt said from the window. He came over to where he and Tina were admiring the figures molded and adorned in sugar and glaze. Figures not unlike a demiguise, a niffler, and an erumpent.

“Oh yeah,” Jacob said. “I don’t know, I just…had some ideas while I was making the batch. I like baking, and I sorta brainstorm when I'm stressed. Folks have seemed to like ‘em, though.”

Tina picked up a bagel with an added lump which was oddly akin to the head of an occamy. “Guess I’ll have one of these,” she laughed.

“Make it two,” Newt agreed.

“Sure thing,” Jacob said, going behind the counter for a bag. “Do ya have any chives? Those and some cream cheese go real nice with those.”

“We’ll try that,” Tina nodded. “Congratulations on this place.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Jacob grinned as he boxed a single round strudel with a large apple rose on top in a box for Queenie. “I’m sorry to do this, but we’re pretty busy. I’m not complaining, of course, but I ought to get back to work.”

Newt nodded deeply but Queenie held Jacob’s hands around the box as he held it out to her. “We’ll see ya for dinner, huh? My treat.”

“Queenie,” Tina curtailed with warning. “We’ve gotta be somewhere tonight.”

“Sure, but we’ll need to eat first,” she said sweetly. “Can we steal you away for an evening?”

Jacob thought about it. “A baker’s work is done in the morning…so…yeah, I can get away. It’ll be a late dinner, though, is that all right?”

“I’m quick with a stove,” Queenie promised. “Newt will come find you.”

Newt perked up and met her expectant smile. “Of course.”

Jacob waved from behind the counter as they left. Credence asked, “What’s happening tonight?”

“The boat to Ilvermorny travels at night,” Tina said, annoyed. “Thankfully the students are already back from their holiday so finding vacancies with very little notice is easy.”

Credence looked to Newt but his chin was angled upward once more, examining and admiring the skyscrapers above them.

“Well we have all day!” Queenie chimed. “Anything you wanna do? Central Park? The zoo? Sight see?”

“There’s only one of us who hasn’t lived here their entire lives,” Tine laughed. “And I don’t think he’s interested in the zoo.”

Newt blinked several times, his attention coming back down to them. Queenie asked Credence, “What about you? Anything you’d like to do?”

He hesitated, but ultimately he admitted, “I’ve…been wondering about my sister.”

Queenie seemed puzzled while Tina murmured, “Oh…Credence…” She shook her head gently. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” her sister asked.

Tina seemed reluctant to answer but provided, “The children from the Barebones orphanage were taken to the hospital— _our_ hospital,” she added quickly against the darkness and shame in Credence’s expression.

“Oh, LAMMS,” Queenie remembered.

“Lamms?” Newt wondered.

“Liberty and Merlin Maladies Sanatorium,” Queenie reiterated.

“The children had more trauma than witnessing an obscurus. Mary Lou certainly made a lot of wounds that needed healing. Madame President thought it best to take them where they could be obliviated safely and their trauma could be treated. I agree with her. Your sister is safe but I don’t know what would happen if she saw you.”

“You mean they’re concerned what she was teaching them,” Credence said, “about magic.”

Tina seemed ready to refute this but a moment’s thought revealed Credence couldn’t be wrong. “Maybe,” she admitted, “but I’ve seen them myself. They’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable isn’t necessarily happy,” Newt said quietly, to no one in particular.

“Credence,” Tina tried to say but he retreated a step.

“I…need to walk,” he said, and quickly left before they could stop him.

Queenie gently held Tina’s arm, the three of them watching the crowds of New York encompass him.

*******

Credence’s fingers touched the velvet on his chest. It felt foreign and strange. The chains pinned under his throat pounced gently as he strode further and further south. The winter air was briskly cold around him but he felt hot and unfamiliar. Eventually he found himself in an alleyway, pressing his back against the cold bricks.

He hadn’t expected to receive an answer. _The children have been moved to a different orphanage,_ or _Their memories left in the rain like everyone else,_ or simply, _We don’t know where your sister is._

The contrary had affected him strongly, made him realize how far from his sense of _normal_ he was. He had always wanted out of that house, out of the painful normalcy in which he lived. He never expected to miss it. At least, to miss the predictability of it.

He caught his breath as if he had been running. Modesty was not his sister in blood, of course, but she might as well have been. His only friend in the home of a monster and passive enemies. Modesty had stood up for him in the end. And instead of thanking her he had lost control and separated them forever…

A payphone stood sentinel of the street across from his alleyway. Under the phone was a shelf on which a phonebook rested. Was it possible…?

Credence crossed the street and opened the phone booth. Lambs, Queenie had called it…but all Credence could find were butcher’s shops and churches—

 _LAMMS?_ Credence read, and remembered part of the full name: Merlin Maladies Sanatorium.

He had some change in his pocket, pennies and nickels that were enough for a quick call. He put in the number from the book, but instead of a dial tone, a woman’s voice immediately answered, _“Name your malady or patient.”_

Credence held the receiver to his ear, unsure how to answer. “Uh…Modesty Barebone.”

 _“Thank you,”_ she said, and Credence was swallowed by the same sensation as when Newt apparated with him. Like he was being squeezed from all sides—

He landed with a jarring sensation, realizing he had dropped underground. _“Welcome to Liberty and Merlin Maladies Sanatorium,”_ the woman’s voice said from a speaker somewhere. _“Take the visitor’s badge, and make your way to the front desk.”_

A small badge clattered out of the coin return slot of the phone. The pin didn’t have a back but Credence guessed it wouldn’t really need one. The booth opened for him and he found himself in the foyer of a hospital. It looked every bit as similar as a non-magical doctor’s office apart from the people waiting with violet boils or a horn growing out of their ear canal. Credence approached the front desk but the nurse seemed bored and uninterested in him as she read her magazine. He stared at the moving picture on the front page until she finally noticed him. “Here to visit or here for treatment?”

“Visit,” he said quietly

“Speak up,” she moaned.

“I-I’m here to visit someone,” he said.

“Got the badge?” she asked without looking up.

“Yes,” he said, pushing it down on his lapel just in case.

She popped her gum as she nodded to his right. “The visitor-safe ward is down there. Names are on the doors. Good luck.”

“Thank you…” he said quietly, and went down the hall. Sure enough, names identified the patients within but each door was vastly different. Some were metal while others were merely glass. One room had no door at all, but when he passed it, it seemed entirely empty despite the loud sounds of violins inside.

The hallway turned a corner and Credence recognized the name of one of the boys from his orphanage. Then another, and finally, _Modesty_ was embossed on a silver plate on the wooden door. Credence knocked gently, and when no answer came, a little harder.

The door opened mid-knock. A young girl with a round face and eyes a bit too large for her face gazed back at him. “You’re not a nurse,” she said.

Air was gone from his throat, so he could only shake his head. “No,” he managed. “I’m Credence…”

“Hi, Credence,” she said, her voice light and a little tired. She turned around, leaving him in her doorway. “You can come in,” she said.

He hesitantly did as she plopped herself on her bed. “No one visits me.”

He was too busy looking around the room to answer. It was not the white, sterile hospital room he had been expecting. Far from it. A fireplace crackled gently in a grate while a radio played a foxtrot tune quietly. A shelf of books was nearly full, and in the spaces were a yo-yo, a stuffed bear, a board game, and other miscellaneous toys. A carpet had been rolled out of the way for chalk drawings to adorn the wooden floors while other drawings were pinned to the walls. The room was filled with color.

“Why not?” he said, peeking out of the window and realizing the sea and Statue of Liberty were outside. He’d thought they were underground—

“I don’t have anyone to visit me,” she said mildly. Credence looked at her. She had bathed recently, and her blond hair was combed against her scalp.

“I’m here,” he said.

“Are you a volunteer?” she asked.

“No?”

“Volunteers come to visit the children,” she explained. “I thought today was my turn. You’re not dressed like a volunteer.”

“Oh,” he blurted, touching his velvet again. “These are new.”

“That’s nice,” she said kindly. “You look uncomfortable.”

He swallowed. “I usually am.”

“Why?”

He was not sure how to answer. “Because…I’m not normal.”

She blinked dreamily. “I don’t think you need to worry about being normal here.”

His head ducked, realizing she was absolutely right. “I’m sorry, I just…I was worried about you.”

“Why?” she asked. “Do you know me?”

Credence realized he needed to be careful. “What have they told you?”

She shrugged. “That my name is Modesty. I don’t like it. That I have a big family and I’m going back to them when I’m better. They haven’t told me what I’m sick with.”

Credence was holding his breath, and it all rushed out of him with immense relief. She did have a large family. He had been there when Mary Lou abducted her from that house, the house he’d destroyed…

If she was going back to them…then he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t ruin her life again. Modesty watched him curiously, concern crossing her eyes. “Are you crying?”

His head jerked. “No, I…are you happy here? I…I came to know if you’re okay.”

She shrugged again. “Bored, mostly. But I’m not unhappy. The nurses play with me and talk to me. They eat with me and keep me company when the volunteers aren’t here.”

“Good,” he nodded desperately. “Good. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

Her lips parted. “For what?”

He shook his head. “For everything.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Your family asked me to visit. They’re busy getting ready for you to come home.”

“When?”

He shook his head again. He needed to leave. “Soon? I don’t know.”

“You’re not very good at this,” she said.

“What?”

“Lying. I would know. I was really anxious when I first came here. But the nurses can tell when we lie about being all right. Do you wanna draw with me?”

He glanced at the various works of art on the walls. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. Modesty slid off the bed to return to the cluster of chalk sticks on the floor. “They said it helps. I didn’t believe them but…they said putting your thoughts on paper clears your head. I think it’s just putting your energy into something else so you’ll be too tired to be anxious.”

She held up a piece of purple chalk. He warily looked between it and the flowers she had drawn on the floor. “What am I supposed to draw?”

“Anything you want,” she said. “Even if it’s nothing.”

He stepped forward, crossing the room to accept the chalk. It seemed like a mile to the floor to kneel beside her, but she was already making large black streaks across the wood. Credence’s stomach plummeted. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Sometimes I need nothing before I can have something.”

He did not know what she meant by that until she reached for other colors. Green and yellow and blue mixed with the black, creating unexpected colors so a landscape opened before Credence’s eyes. It reminded him of a painting he’d often seen in posters and graffiti—

He realized Modesty was watching him. Settling down, he began to drag the pigment over the wood grain.

*******

The sun set early in the Manhattan winter. While Credence found his way back uptown his breath fogged in front of his face. He felt the cold now, and his hunger. He had left Modesty in the afternoon and walked for a long time, but he was glad he’d gone. She had only given pause when she had seen the scars on his hands.

 _“Cooking,”_ he’d lied. _“I’m not very good at it.”_

 _“Then you should wear gloves,_ she said, and they went back to their chalk. She showed him how to fold paper into the shape of birds and frogs, as her nurses had shown her. He held them in his hands now, protectively in his pockets as he found the Goldsteins’ apartment building and carefully crept by their landlady’s door.

But he was good at being quiet. He’d had to be to avoid…of course a lot of the time it didn’t work. She’d be waiting for him on the stairs, or on the landing, or in his room.

The soles of his shoes ascended the stairs silently, not even creaking. His hand closed around the knob, polished and undented as it turned—

Sound burst from the apartment, almost pushing him back a step. “How did he get out?” Tina was yelling. The apartment was a mess: drawers open at odd angles with pots and pans magically hovering in the air.

“Do you need bait, honey?” Queenie asked, holding up silverware.

Newt was standing on the chairs and then the table, trying to reach the niffler who was slithering between the curved metal arms of the chandelier. Credence shut the door behind him, the slam turning their heads to him. “Hello, Credence,” Newt said, quickly followed by, “Catch him!”

The niffler dove for him, his small paws grabbing at the chains adorning his throat. Credence caught him but his fur was like oil, slick to the touch and difficult to grab. His back hit the door, but Newt was in front of him suddenly, gripping the niffler’s feet and jerking him away. The chains came away from Credence’s shirt but it was Newt flapping the creature like a wrinkled shirt that riveted his attention. Earrings and forks spilled from the creature somehow, and when Newt held its feet in one hand and tickled its abdomen.

“All of it. All of it, now,” Newt scolded as necklaces, brooches, belt buckles, and coins fell from a pouch within the creature’s fur. Credence looked to Tina and Queenie, the former wiping her forehead while the latter fluffed her hair. When she finished, Queenie chimed, “Ya hungry? Thankfully the dumplings weren't knocked over.”

“Are you all right?” Tina came beside him. “He didn’t scratch you, did he?”

Credence stared at her before he simply shook his head. When it lifted, he realized someone else was there.

Jacob Kowalski sat at the table, a silent mixture of awe, perplexity, and humor. He held a honeyed roll as he gestured around them. “I don’t know how I forgot this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hospital in which there is no security....


	5. Ilvermorny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goldsteins bring them to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Sorcery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay there are original characters in this. Don't hate me e_e

Jacob’s jaw hung as he stared up at the high rock formation and the golden framework on which Frank used to roost. “What went there? Or am I not seeing it?”

“Frank,” Newt said, his hands in his pockets. “He’s gone now.”

Newt strolled over to the moonlit sand that stretched for what looked like miles. In the distance was a family of graphorns playing. “How big is this place?”

“As large as I need it,” Newt responded.

“Illegal is the answer,” Tina said behind them. Newt turned to look at her, his smile bashful but not at all ashamed. She admitted, “Although I am impressed. We’ve never busted anyone with a talent for luggage manipulation like this. Technically we could get you for animal hoarding.”

“Add it to the list,” Newt continued forward.

“Wow…” Jacob moaned, gazing up at the tropical foliage and rocks where the nundu cubs were playing. “What’s that around them?”

He gestured to the thin veil enclosing the habitat, not unlike water running over a sheet of glass. “Water,” Newt explained. “Nundu gases can be incredibly deadly, but dissolve immediately in water. It’s the affected humans who thereafter contaminate a water supply—”

One of the cubs yowled in its pursuit of her sibling but tumbled over the rock ledge, falling through the water and into Newt’s arms. Her head shook, spraying him as she wriggled for freedom. He tossed her back through and she ambled after her siblings. Jacob was beside himself. “What’dja mean by illegal? It’s illegal to have, uh…bottomless cases like this?”

“Yeah,” Tina nodded beside him. “Too many people have added space to their bags and well…forgot what or who they put in them. It’s more for their own protection than a hindrance for crime. Although Newt here is breaking a few clauses in the beast ownership and smuggling ban.”

Newt stopped, facing her. “I do no such thing.”

“Sure, you’re not selling ‘em,” Tina shrugged, coming to stand near him. She looked around them, “But this will all be confiscated if we don’t catch our boat tonight. President Picquery is lenient for your help but she can’t ignore you for long.”

“Boat?” Jacob chimed. “When’re ya leaving?”

“Ten o’clock,” Tina revealed.

“For Ilvermorny,” Queenie trilled beside him.

Jacob looked back to Credence, who sat on the threshold of the supply caravan. “I guess that’s where you come in. You’re a wizard too, right?”

Credence perked up and shifted his weight, his hands on his knees. “Sure is!” Queenie chimed. He glanced at Newt, whose head was lowered but his eyes were on him. Newt smiled softly.

Credence nodded once, and then more confidently. “I’m…a little late, but…”

“Late! Aw, pal,” Jacob laughed. “I’m the one who’s late. This…” he gestured all around them, his head craned to take in the ocean swaying in the corners of the ceiling. His hand fell to his side, his expression fading. “I don’t wanna forget this again.”

Newt and Queenie faced Tina, who reacted to their scrutiny. “Well I’m not obliviating him! That’s why I keep saying we need to go! We’ve only got an hour.”

Jacob stared at her. “An hour? You mean you’re leaving at ten tonight? And…and then what?”

Queenie and Tina exchanged looks. “Well we’ll be back,” the former assured cheerfully. “We’ll be gone only four days, maybe.”

But she looked to Newt, whose features were apologetic. “I must submit my manuscript. After Ilvermorny I’m bound for England.”

Jacob nodded his understanding. “I get it, yeah. Just goes to show, good folks come from all over. Still…it’s a shame oceans are wider than streets. An’I guess you’ll be at school, huh?”

Credence was surprised again at being addressed. “I thought we were going to Hogwarts after. So I could choose.”

Queenie huffed, but then shrugged, “I’d just like to visit. But don’t you start thinking this makes Hogwash better than Ilvermorny.”

Newt laughed quietly, his head falling back before he asked Jacob, “Would you feed those pellets to the mooncalves?”

“Hm? Sure,” Jacob said as Newt leveled his forearms for Pickett to walk across. “Oh yeah! These guys,” he laughed, watching the pellets float above the pecking heads of the large-eyed creatures.

Newt rotated to call, “Dougal. You’re due for a brushing.”

From the hanging nest emerged an amber eyed demiguise, his silver hair slightly ruffled from sleep. He climbed onto Newt’s back and groggily sagged against his neck while Newt went to the caravan. “Could you hand me those combs?” he asked Credence.

He found the wide-toothed combs sticking out of a can on the counter and Newt thanked him as he returned to the moonlight for the demiguise to sway with unconsciousness while Newt gently untangled his long silver strands, moving his hands around each other in fluid movements. Atop his head Pickett seemed to be equally committed to arranging his hair.

But they could not ignore the inevitable for much longer. They climbed out of the case and the Goldsteins passed down their weekend bags to Newt for storage before they locked the doors of their apartment and departed into the brisk night air. Credence stepped aside to allow Newt space to wrap a golden striped scarf around his neck, but Newt paused, and draped the garment over Credence’s neck instead. Credence looked at him but Newt was already pulling a similarly crimson version out of a pocket. After a moment’s thought, Credence wrapped it around his neck, tucking the ends under his coat. The fabric was softer than he expected.

“Newt, uh…you guys go on ahead, I wanna talk to Newt before you all leave,” Jacob said. The sisters were further ahead but met Newt’s surprised expression. He nodded and they approached to say their goodbyes, Tina hugging him and Queenie kissing his cheek. Tina turned to Credence, who lingered.

Newt smiled slightly. “We’ll just be a pace behind, not to worry.”

Credence’s lips parted but he ultimately nodded. Jacob waited until they were a block ahead and strolled beside Newt. “I, uh, I suppose I owe ya a thank you for those eggshells.”

Newt’s eyes examined him and then he shook his head gently. “You needn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Jacob insisted. “Givin’ somebody a case full of silver is…” he laughed, rubbing his eyes. “Well, in a town like this, it’s crazy. There’s a reason banks are so tight on their wallets. Everythin’s a gamble. A risky investment.”

“But it wasn’t,” Newt said. Jacob’s expression lacked understanding. “People like you, Jacob. It was never a doubt in my mind that you’d be successful.”

Jacob walked with his hands in his pockets. He scoffed a laugh but Newt insisted, “It has been my experience that people are uniformly kind unless they hold some sort of superiority against you. There are exceptions, of course, but I don’t think your bankers are among them.”

Jacob laughed more easily this time. “I don’t know. They’re businessmen. They operate on a different level. I mean, technically I am too but…I didn’t want my bakery to be like that, ya know?”

“Yes,” Newt nodded.

“It’s just pastries, after all,” Jacob laughed again, but it was different. Fragile. “Nothing to get burnt about. Ha!”

Their steps were slowing until they stopped. Jacob wandered in a loose circle, his hand over his eyes. “Jacob…” Newt said.

He shook his head, refusing to look at him. “It’s nothin’. I’ll be fine in a minute. It’s just…” He turned, revealing glistening, red eyes. “I’m so relieved!” he surprised Newt with a grin. “When that rain happened, yeah I was confused but...after a few days I was so unhappy. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my life at the factory but I felt…just as you said, wasted. Like I wasn’t really livin’, you know?”

Newt smiled softly. “Yes.”

Jacob wiped his eyes and returned his hands to his pockets. “What was your job before? Or have you always been into this creature business?”

“I worked at the Ministry of Magic,” Newt replied. “The British government for magical people. Apart from school examinations, I never knew sitting at a desk could feel so much like death, but it was the best I could do before I was commissioned to write my book.”

“Best you could do?” Jacob said incredulously. “What d’you mean?”

“I didn’t finish school.”

“Really? Why, if I may ask?”

“I was expelled,” Newt answered honestly.

“Oh,” Jacob’s countenance fell. “Wow…I’m sorry, really.”

Newt peered at him. “Why? You don’t know the reason.”

Jacob shrugged. “Sure but I hear you and Queenie talkin’ about your schools and I know you. You’re only dangerous ‘cause you like dangerous things. You love Hogwarts, right?”

He met Newt’s wide gaze. He had a habit of walking quite close but Jacob did not mind.

“Yes, I do,” he answered, and Jacob did not inquire further. They walked for some time in silence before Newt blurted, “I suppose it is unconventional and poor business to take a holiday the day after opening?”

Jacob’s brows lifted. “Uh, yeah, usually,” he chuckled, and then, “You mean…”

They stopped on the pavement again. “I thought—Queenie was tellin’ me about Ilvermorny; how the school is not really visible or somethin’ to no-majs. I got the impression there was no point inviting me.”

Newt stared at him and then his lips twitched in a smile. “I best get going. Tina’s a swift walker and will surely leave me behind if I delay.”

Jacob stared as he strode forward, and then realized Newt had left him at his bakery. Tomorrow was only the second day of him owning his business. His dream was standing before him, made real. He could still smell orange zest in the air. He liked that, the thought of people coming to this street and smelling his grandmother’s recipes. As a boy, he’d thought her paczkis were magic baked and sprinkled in sugar. Being in her kitchen felt like anything was possible. Now that he knew real magic existed…well, anything _was_ possible…

His eyes wandered over the letters of his own name…before he looked at Newt walking away. The glint in Newt’s eyes…he had seen that look before. Mischief.

“Hey, hey, Newt,” Jacob called.

*******

Tina glanced over her shoulder and then made the others stop. “Hold on,” she sighed with a peek at her watch. “He’s fallen behind.”

“He’s coming,” Queenie assured, and moments later, Newt came jogging around the corner of the block, his breath puffing white in front of his lips.

“So sorry,” he exclaimed, peeking within his coat. Pickett’s springy leaves appeared briefly before he tucked his scarf in again. His chin perked back up. “Ready?”

“Just a few more blocks,” Tina guided. To Newt’s impressed surprise, they entered Central Park. They walked until they were behind the Metropolitan Museum and Newt peered around until Tina stopped them to address Credence. “You ever been here before?”

He shook his head. “Good,” she said, “that’ll make it easier.”

“What, easier?”

“It’ll look like we’re usin’ a back door,” Queenie explained as they approached the museum. “But just keep walkin’, honey.”

“Oh!” Newt exclaimed and reached past Tina for the doorknob. “Is this like plat—”

He vanished.

Credence rushed forward and then stopped with a glance at the sisters. “Where did he go?”

They both appeared amused. “Go on,” Tina gestured. “It’s just like opening up a door.”

He turned back to the door in question. It certainly looked far from abnormal. The knob was the same steel one clamped out of no-maj machines at a rate of dozens per hour—

No sooner was his hand applying pressure to turn it, then Credence felt air move around him. He was no longer looking at the door or the museum, but at large open space of the park. Newt was in front of him, gazing up at the balloons floating above wooden ships like the ones Credence had only seen illustrated in books. Credence came to stand beside Newt, who glanced at him but otherwise they both ogled the ships hovering some meters over the ground and the slightly glowing balloons made of various fabrics, giving them the appearance of stained glass.

“I think this will be lovely,” Newt said. Credence looked at him, meeting his eyes before Newt peeked back at Queenie and Tina joining them.

“We’re over here,” Tina guided. She led the way to a ship made of warm mahogany planks as well as random, lighter oak ones. The balloon was stitched with fabrics of blue, purple, green, red, and yellow.

“You Goldstein?” one of the deckhands on the ground asked. Tina handed him her receipt and he waved to someone else on deck. A section of the hull swung open on a hinge and out unrolled a staircase. “We got some moon cider up there. Help y’self.”

“Thanks!” Queenie chimed, bobbing up the stairs.

“After you,” Newt said quietly, allowing Credence and Tina to follow her. The deck was a flat space only divided by long benches back to back along the center of the deck. They were lined with emerald velvet. The small stacks of luggage indicated other guests, but the deck currently belonged to them.

“A’right, tha’s the last of ‘em,” the man on the grass called. He rose with the staircase and shut the hull himself. He came over to inform them, “Steady yourselves, ladies. Gaining altitude can be a little bumpy. Can I get that?”

He opened his hand for Newt’s case, but Newt held it with both hands. “No, no, I’ll keep this with me, thank you.”

“Suit y’self,” he finished with a look to Queenie and a wink that clicked in his mouth. She looked away. Credence observed this but the man's words proved to be the only warning they had. The ship rose under his feet and he stumbled to land against Newt.

“Oof! All right. I’ve got you,” he assured, firmly righting Credence to his feet. “Come over here. You can hold on better. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“No,” he said.

“I suppose that was a silly question,” Newt said, a mixture of apology and humor.

Credence felt the smooth wood of the hull under his hands as they rose slowly but steadily into the sky. Already people on the ground resembled ants. He shifted his weight. “I wasn’t…”

Newt was leaning over the banister, shorter than him as he peeked up from under his hair. “I…wasn’t aware during it. But I was. When I was an obscurus…I knew what was happening, but I wasn’t fully…”

“In control,” Newt provided. Credence nodded delicately. Newt’s gaze wandered over the tree and rooftops. “That is the nature of anger. I didn’t mean to inspire ill reflections.”

Credence shrugged a shoulder. “I understand—it’s not something you’d want to talk about—”

“I didn’t say that,” Newt curtailed gently.

Credence stared at him but Newt met Credence’s dark eyes and pressed his teeth in his lip, “Far be it for me to judge you on how you handle anger. You lasted over nine years, suffering incredible cruelty no one should experience at any age. All we can do now is look ahead.”

His gaze was far away as he stood up straight. Newt reached into his coat for his wand and Credence recognized the tube of venom. Rearing back, Credence had the horrifying thought he was going to throw his wand overboard, but Newt pitched golden lightning into the air, blue sparks swimming through the clouds.

“Ay! No spells on deck!” someone yelled, but Newt paid them no mind.

“Come on, come on…” he murmured to no one until they broke through a layer of cumulous clouds into a bright periwinkle sky. Newt hurled the venom toward the stars right as an ivory beak pierced into view. Rising from under the hull, Frank caught the tube, and rolled in the direction of Newt’s lightning.

Tina and Queenie joined them, watching the thunderbird shimmer with light before he vanished within the clouds. “Where’s he going?” Queenie asked.

“Home,” Newt said. “Which reminds me—”

He tapped his boot against his case. After a long moment, the latches clicked open and Jacob lifted the lid. “Evenin’, folks.”

Queenie shined whereas Tina only rested on the banister, letting her face fall into her hands. “I’m going to lose my job again.”

*******

Credence winced and opened his eyes, wide awake. The clang of a lid on a pot woke him, but as he blinked sleep away, the crackle of a fire on the sandstone drew his attention. A cast iron pot was poised on iron rungs over a campfire along with a copper teakettle. Newt was stirring the pot’s contents while the niffler fidgeted near him, scurrying in circles and desperately eyeing the kettle. Pickett rested on his hair while an occumy was wound loosely around his neck, asleep. Two smaller blue tails hung from his trouser pocket.

The rustle of Credence’s fabric grasped Newt’s attention. “Good morning. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Credence sniffed, clearing his throat as he sat up, pushing the plush, down filled quilt Newt had loaned him aside. Coming to kneel near him, Credence handed Newt’s wand to him. Newt glanced at it, “Keep it. You may keep practicing, if you like. You made immense progress last night—yes, yes, here you are.”

He slid a spatula under a fish that sizzled beside the pot and kettle on the iron rack, sprinkling moss over it as he set it on the sandstone. “Take care, you glutton, it’s hot.”

He turned back to Credence, “How do you like your tea?”

He could only stare with parted lips. “I don’t know.”

Far from perturbed, Newt poured milk into two large copper mugs, followed by the reddish amber tea. From his arrangement of utensils, he found a jar of sugar, which he set beside the mugs. “Add however much you like. May want to let it cool for a—actually. The spell is _fare freddo.”_

Rubbing his eyes, Credence pointed the wand. _“Fare freddo.”_

The mist from the wand’s tip was faint and only removed the steam from the water’s surface, but Newt’s lips curved into a sideways smile. “Lovely. I hope you like it. It’s my own blend.”

But Credence watched him add pepper to the pot and ladle the stew into chipped bowls painted with Chinese patterns. “Why are you doing everything manually?”

Newt glanced at him. “Why not?”

Credence gave this some thought. “Queenie does it with magic, and…why wouldn’t you do everything with magic?”

To his surprise, Newt chuckled softly. “Simply because I needn’t have too. And cooking is calming, I suppose. A sort of alchemy for the senses.”

Credence smelled savory aromas as he saw peppers, potatoes, and other various ingredients in the stew. “I didn’t think you would know how to.”

“That’s not a wrong assumption to make,” Newt agreed, settling down to eat. “Many a wizard wouldn’t know what to do with a stove. But my father is a muggle, so.”

He blew on his spoon and ate, leaving Credence to process this. “He is?”

Newt looked at him as if he had already long since left this conversation. “Technically he’s a squib, which he did not know until he met my mother. Afterward the other squibs and wizards in his family came forward. The transition was rather simple.”

The caravan door opened behind them. Jacob smiled, “They’re uh…parking or docking, or whatever you call it out there. Hey that smells good.”

Newt found a spare bowl and held it aloft. Jacob came around the niffler and knelt on the other side of the fire. “Wow, I never seen him so contained.” The niffler paid him no mind, gobbling up morsels of flaky fish, with moss stuck to his bill. Jacob sat on his rear and inhaled the aroma before he sipped the broth. “Mm…mm, this is good. Why didn’t you tell me you could cook?”

“It never came up. I suppose we should eat quickly.”

He took his wand back to cool his tea and enchanted the dishes to wash themselves. He returned the occumies to their nest with a batch of insects to eat and shut the case behind him. Tina and Queenie were dressed and waiting in their lodgings.

They emerged on deck to a grey morning shrouded in mist. The moisture droplets danced in the air, tickling their faces as they descended the stairs to stand among pine needles and sap-scented air. “Goodness,” Newt said cheerily. “This feels like England.”

“Just up this way,” Tina leaned her head toward a worn path in the grass.

“Uh…ladies…” Jacob said behind them.

Newt and the others stopped to see what he needed, and found a disoriented muggle. “I uh…you said this place was enchanted, right?”

Newt rushed forward. “What do you see?”

“I…” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m not sure. I keep….feelin’….lost?”

“It must be because we’re close to the school. Hogwarts has various enchantments to redirect muggles away from it. Best you stay in the case until we meet someone who can grant you admittance.”

“Why can’t you do it?” he wondered as Newt unlatched the case.

“A building designed to house and protect hundreds of magical children is a fortress of old and new magic. I am not able.”

Jacob could only nod as Newt’s hand on his forearm guided him over the ladder within. “Alright. I’ll see ya on the other side, I guess.”

He squeezed into the confines of the case and Newt stood while buttoning his coat against the morning chill. Tina and Queen held their wands aloft for translucent umbrellas to shield against the thickening rain as they recommenced their path. Newt walked beside Credence, his own umbrella shielding the two of them as they followed through the dense forest.

“Have you been outta the city before?” Queenie asked Credence. He shook his head, gazing in between the trees. She inhaled nostalgically, “It smells so good here.”

They traveled for some time, long enough for the rain to form full drops and then disintegrate into a mist again before Queenie chimed, “There it is!”

The trees opened to a grass clearing and a great bridge connecting the mountain to Ilvermorny. The school, not unlike the bridge, was a fortress of stone; a unique combination of castle and house as it grew and accommodated over the centuries—

“What the hell are you two doing back here?”

Credence startled as they turned to the figure that had previously seemed to be a statue at the start of the bridge. Queenie bobbed with charm. “Hiya, William! We’re here to visit!”

“Eegh,” he growled dubiously. “Good for nothing while you were here and then you bother me by coming back—”

“Billy, come on,” hopped the figure on the other side of side of the bridge. Credence glanced at Newt, who was the epitome of curiosity, his wide eyes shining as a smile threatened to overtake his face. The figure was much younger than the aged William, looking for all accounts like a slightly green teenager, but with a larger nose, wiggling ears, blocky elbows, and strong bare legs. “The Goldsteins never hurt no body!”

“Peter? Is that you?” Tina smiled. “You haven’t aged a day.”

The pukwudgie stood up proudly only to slouch as William harrumphed, “Isn’t anything of which to be proud. We live longer than weak humans, wizard or not. What have I told you about speaking? You live at a school, act like you know grammar, or these imbeciles won’t forget it.”

“And you haven’t changed at all,” Tina said, far from insulted. Both she and Queenie had warm smiles on their faces.

William sniffed and his hard eyes landed on Newt and Credence. They looked like smooth black river stones apart from the moisture on them. “Who are these two?”

“Hello!” Newt blurted, holding out his hand. “Newt Scamander!”

William frowned at the hand as if it was both poisonous and audaciously offered. Peter stepped around him and shook it eagerly. “Peter! My name’s Peter!”

Tina introduced, “This is Credence. We’re hoping to find some way for him to get magic instruction.”

Peter took Credence’s hand himself and shook it eagerly whereas William pressed his lips together. “He is well over the age of schooling.”

“Sure,” Queenie sang, “but that’s not his fault. He’s strong and wants to learn.”

William was clearly skeptical at letting them pass but finally declared. “Isn’t my job to admit or decline. Don’t know why I bother standing here anyhow. Go on, if you’re going.”

Credence had the intimate experience of having Peter nearly nose to nose with him. “Don’t mind him. He’s almost four hundred, and he’s always been crabby. He really cares a whole lot.”

He realized Peter’s hair was a mixture of moss as well as hair hanging over his face. He smelled like the ponds in Central Park.

“Thanks, William!” Queenie said, and moved past them. William eyed Newt’s case as they embarked over the bridge, which was wide enough for two automobiles or carriages to pass over it. Over the valley was windy but the distance was brief, and they soon faced the entrance courtyard of Ilvermorny. Newt’s head was craned upward as usual, taking in the two granite figures poised near the entrance; a man and a woman. The courtyard was a grassy area fringed with ivy trying to reach the windows but the door was a great slab of wood with intricate carvings all over it. Mounted as if it was ingrained in the wood was an iron knocker in the shape of a horned serpent entwined around the body of a thunderbird in flight. The iron studs lining the edge with the hinges were forged in the shape of arrows while the large doorknob was in the shape of a nundu, but without its cartilage spikes.

“A wampus…” Newt said under his breath, eyeing the knob despite its being the size of his face.

“One of the house guardians,” Tina narrated. “The pukwudgies are another. Those are who we just met, guarding the bridge,” she added to Credence.

“They say the serpent lives in the valley somewhere,” Queenie remarked as Tina reached up to touch the knocker. The metal came to life, the serpent slithering over the wood and the thunderbird flapping its wings. The wampus’s jaws opened, baring its teeth as if to challenge anyone wishing to open the door. Queenie touched under its chin and the maw closed instantly, the door opening to reveal a tall Native American whose silver hair almost reached the floor. Her hair was combed back from her face and the silver waterfall was held back by a braid arching from ear to ear, with various feathers and silver clamps in line with the strands. Aged though she was, her smile was young as she greeted, “The Goldstein sisters. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Professor Aiyana,” Tina said, striding into her open arms. Many rings adorned the woman’s fingers as she closed her eyes blissfully.

“Queenie, darling,” she grinned, welcoming Queenie in turn. She then eyed Newt and Credence, both of whom looked anxious. “I am Chieftain Aiyana, or Professor, if you like. Headmistress of Ilvermorny.”

She offered her hand and Newt, his head lowered, took it. “Newt Scamander, mum.”

“English?” she reacted sharply, though her tone was velvet.

He hesitated. “Yes?”

“The English have been cruel to my country before they called themselves Americans, and even after.”

Newt really had no words. He could only nod mutely. “If—If, you want me to go—”

“No,” she answered just as sharply yet soft. “You have made it past the barriers. This is verification of your character enough. William would have slit your throat otherwise.”

Newt ducked his head further, although he failed to hide a slight smile. The headmistress frowned. “This intrigues you?”

He inhaled, choosing his words carefully. “My line of work involves an appreciation for the more dangerous inhabitants of this earth.”

“He had a thunderbird before we came—” Credence blurted, his voice high as Aiyana’s dark green eyes landed on him. “—n-named…Frank.”

“Frank? You thought to domesticate a thunderbird?”

 _“No,”_ Newt said, suddenly firm. “I found him in Egypt. I came to America to bring him home.”

Her eyes fell to the case he held in both hands. “Well you’re just full of secrets, Mr. Scamander. I look forward to our conversations together. You are welcome. And you are…?”

“Credence,” Queenie slipped her arm through Credence’s. “He’s an orphan, you see, and had to be raised by no-majs.”

“I understand,” she nodded once. “Come, we’ll dine in my quarters.”

She turned, revealing many strips of colors and fabrics on her strong, willowy form. The shadowed foyer they were in was wood paneled with sets of stairs ascending on either side of them but through a pair of double doors was a vastly open room. The ceiling towered over their heads, a glass cupola filling the room with light. A balcony circled the room but it was broken by towering figures holding up the ceiling: a thunderbird, a wampus, a pukwudgie, and the horned serpent. Their wooden figures were imbued with the animals’ traits: the serpent had a jewel in its forehead, and the thunderbird’s feathers were occasionally gold instead of wood.

“This is the sorting room, as well as our ballroom, counsel chamber, and lecture hall for upper classmen,” the headmistress narrated. She paused in the center of the floor, which was otherwise plain stone apart from the ornate emblem directly under the cupola. The house guardians framed the circle but the design was of the constellations around a Gordian knot. “Students stand here and await the guardians’ judgment.”

She looked at the Goldsteins, who picked up, “The statues come alive, depending on which house you belong in. I was in House Thunderbird,” Tina said, “so its wings flew for me.”

“And the pukwudgie raised his arrow for me,” Queenie beamed.

“Occasionally more than one guardian will claim a child,” Aiyana said, “and very rarely, all four will move. At that point it is the student’s choice as to which house they’d like to join.”

“The last to do so was Madame Picquery,” Tina added.

The headmistress nodded. “Just so. Come along.”

Instead of walking through the emblem, she turned right, taking them out a tall arched pair of French doors to a stone terrace. Below them were the lawns and gardens of Ilvermorny, as well as students playing in the mid-morning drizzle. Several glanced up and either waved or called out greetings, to which their headmistress smiled and waved in reply. Lifting her long robes, she led the way up a staircase and emerged on a large stone patio outside of her office.

“Henry, tea and brunch items, please.”

A pukwudgie moved like a section of stone leaving the railing, growling and grumbling its way to the kitchens. With a wave of her hand, she cleared moisture off the various seats around the outdoor fireplace and gestured for them to rest where they like. “I hope you haven’t taken any remarks of the pukwudgies to heart. They can be foul of mouth but their healing knowledge rivals only the abilities of phoenix tears. They are invaluable partners of our school.”

“We met William and Peter at the bridge,” Tina informed, “so they haven’t been completely discouraged yet.”

“Good,” Aiyana smiled. “Peter is an anomaly, as cheerful as he is. This makes him particularly close kept by the others. Very protective, pukwudgies. This characteristic betrays them. How long will you be with us?”

Queenie and Tina looked at each other before the latter said, “Just four days. Newt has to return to England, and…”

The headmistress smirked. “And?”

Tina worriedly said, “There’s a no-maj…in Newt’s case.”

“Yes, I imagine a great deal is in that case,” she remarked but not unkindly. “But a no-maj?”

“He knows about witches and wizards,” Tina assured.

“His name’s Jacob,” Queenie added, “and he’s real sweet.”

“And I imagine he is quite puzzled being here,” Aiyana remarked. “You’d like me to grant him magical sight.”

“We don’t want to intrude,” Tina rushed. “We understand—”

“Let’s see him,” she curtailed.

The sisters looked to Newt, who set the case on the ground and knocked on its lid. After a time, Jacob lifted the lid, but he gazed through glassy eyes around them, not seeing them. “Uh…ladies? Newt?”

He climbed fully out of the case, unbeknownst right in front of the headmistress. Jacob glanced down at the case, not wanting to lose it. “If you’re here, all I see are a lotta trees, so…”

The headmistress watched him for a long time and only moved after Jacob uttered, “Hey Newt, uh, if you’re here I can’t hear ya, and I don’t wanna leave your case for just anyone, so...a sign? A message would be real appreciated—”

Her long fingers splayed over his forehead and eyes, her fingertips in his hair. She wrenched her hand back as if prying a mask from his eyes, and Jacob startled. “Ohf! Woah,” he put a hand to his chest, “sorry, you startled me.”

He looked around and found the others, finally stepping away from the case to give Aiyana room. “So this is the school? Are you, uh, the boss around here? Jacob Kowalski, call me Jacob.”

She eyed the hand he offered her with a lifted, amused brow. “Yes, hello, Jacob. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He shook her hand gently and shrugged. “I’m just takin’ a quick holiday from my bakery. Just opened yesterday but Newt helped me arrange some things.”

“A bakery,” she repeated. “What is your specialty?”

“Oh! Uh…” he blew air as he thought about it. “I suppose pastries are my thing. I make breads and things too. Focaccia, sugar sticks, butters, glazes…anythin’ you like, I’m willing to make it.”

Aiyana hummed, nodding slightly. “Have a seat, Jacob.”

Queenie moved for him to sit beside her as the headmistress resumed her seat. “He is granted the sight while he is here. The moment you step off of school grounds, Jacob Kowalski, you will no longer be able to see or find Ilvermorny. You may remember it in pieces, but never will you find it again unless I grant you entrance.”

He nodded deeply. “Yes, ma’am. I understand. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

His gratitude was cut short by the arrival of Henry, expertly carrying many platters of food. Jacob’s jaw hung, possibly the only time a person had captivated his attention from food apart from Queenie.

Henry eyed him. “Problem, mug-lump?”

His jaw snapped shut. “Nope! No problem, sir.”

“Pfft,” Henry huffed, setting the food down. “Must be a no-maj. You sure about this, Chief?”

“Yes, Henry, thank you. Please go exchange places with Peter. I imagine William will be needed a reprieve from him soon.”

Henry only shook his head as he descended the stairs. They could hear pieces of, “Don’t know why you bother…the lot of them…greasy babes….”

Jacob peeked between everyone. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No, honey,” Queenie assured. “Pukwudgies are just like that. You gotta take what they do as who they are, not what they say.”

“He’s particularly rude when he’s flattered,” Aiyana teased. “Mr. Scamander?”

Newt had rotated so far on his seat that his back was almost to her. He whirled around, seeing them staring. “Oh,” he smiled, embarrassed, “Call me Newt.”

“Newt, then. What has arrested your attention?”

“You’ve got an augurey nest,” he illustrated. “Just up there. They’re native to Ireland; it surprised me to hear its song here.”

“Yes, they made their nest there some months ago,” Aiyana said. “I didn’t mind, but I believe you have a superstition regarding auguries.”

“Yes,” he said, distractedly watching the nest in the thick wooden rafters and stone over their heads. “Their cry was believed an omen for death. British and Irish wizards made such a point to avoid them to avoid hearing it, but they only sing for the rain. It’s understandable why they’re so active today. I much prefer their other name: the Irish Phoenix.”

The headmistress chortled. “I wonder, are you as knowledgeable of all creatures or just birds?”

“Newt has written a book about magical creatures,” Tina chimed.

“Am writing,” Newt corrected. “It’s a work in progress, I’m afraid.”

Aiyana nodded over her cup of citrus tea. “I wish you all the best in your endeavors. Now you.”

Credence’s eyes widened slightly. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen, ma’am.”

“Students usually finish their final examinations at seventeen. There are exceptions of course but these are usually students who have not gotten serious until the end.”

He listened and eventually replied, “I understand. I wasn’t expecting to be enrolled. More...if I could work and learn here.”

Her gaze was steady and piercing. “Four days, you said? Plenty of time to decide what actions to take. Today you are fresh from your travels. Enjoy the grounds, but I ask you not to disrupt students’ studies. Peter will show you to your rooms.”

They had not noticed the pukwudgie arrive, but Peter emerged energetically. “It’s so rare we have guests! This way!”

Peter snapped his fingers and the platters stood from the table and walked with them, their twisted golden handles unwinding to form their legs. He led them up to the teachers’ quarters: a wooden-floored wing with light painted walls and many windows for natural light.

“It’s kinda strange staying in this part,” Queenie giggled to her sister. Peter opened a pointed arched door and stood aside for people and platters to move inside.

“Gentlemen just over here,” Peter said, and opened the door across from them. Credence and Jacob entered while Newt remained in the corridor. The rooms were mirror images of each other: the ceiling rippling in thin fabric like a tent while two full beds rested on either side of a circular window. A door tucked in a corner revealed a closet as well as a personal washroom.

“So how will I know what the edge of the property is?” Jacob asked after setting his coat down.

“You’ll have to fall off the mountain or drown in the river to leave unless you cross the bridge,” Peter said cheerily.

“Oh. ‘Course,” Jacob flattened.

Peter laughed. “Don’t be scared of the river. It’s way down in the valley and it's got a bank even though it’s too cold to swim for humans. The snow just melted last week and it may again before you leave.”

He looked up at Newt leaning forward for his attention. “May I see the kitchens?”

“Sure! But…didn’t you like the food?” Peter asked, puzzled.

“No, no—I mean yes—I need to restock on supplies. Provisions. Specifically cheese, lentils, licorice or anise, and various spices and other accoutrements but most things I can get from the grounds.”

Peter blinked long and thoughtfully, almost as much as Newt. “Okay,” he said dreamily. “I outta go with you, though. If you thought Billy was bad, the chefs are real particular.”

Newt stood aside for Peter to lead the way, leaving the four others to decide their own activities. Queenie shrugged with a smile to Credence. “Let’s give you a tour!”

*******

Credence gazed up at the stone and occasionally marble walls of Ilvermorny. Tall spears of landscaping stood like sentinels over the grounds. He even saw one swat a carrion bird once for flying too close. A massive telescope stood on a third story terrace, surrounded by students looking through smaller versions lined along the banister. It was strange seeing so many people speaking and practicing magic freely, but not an unwelcome environment. Seeing glass bottles of water flush green and the drinker meow like a cat was amusing as well as bubble gum blows creating butterflies when popped.

“The pleats are cute,” Queenie commented from her place on the lawn blanket. She and Tina were lounging with the kettle of hot chocolate Henry had brought begrudgingly.

Tina glanced at the girls’ uniforms but her attention strayed to the boys looking their way. Queenie felt her thoughts and turned to see them. The boys, in their numbers, shifted under her gaze but snickered amongst each other. Queenie was contemplative until her mouth definitively closed.

“Can’t say I missed that,” she murmured.

Tina’s hand overlapped hers. “Try to ignore them. They’re the ones being ridiculous, thinking they have a chance at an older city doll.”

Queenie smiled shyly but Tina smiled, and her expression turned into a smirk. Credence, standing, finally came down to kneel on the blanket. “Is it hard? Being a legilimens?”

“It’s not hard, since it comes so naturally,” Queenie said.

“But it’s no treat,” Tina remarked, “Knowing every man wants under your sister’s dress.”

Credence had no reply for that, but Queenie smiled despite her chin falling. When it lifted she giggled, “Teenie got into some fights at school.”

“And I won ‘em,” she agreed proudly.

Queenie took Jacob’s hand and said upliftingly. “You were a little different, though. You and Newt.”

Jacob laughed bashfully. “I can’t claim to be any sorta saint.”

“Any guy would be shocked to see a lady in her slip,” she giggled, “at least the polite ones would act like it. But you,” she shook her head, “no. You thought I was nice.”

“Well you are nice,” he said like it was obvious. “And I guess Newt was too busy thinkin’ about his creatures to notice a beautiful woman in the room.”

She laughed fully. “He’s usually hard to read; it’s kind of a surprise whenever he’s clear as a bell. His thoughts were all over the place. Like now…”

They followed her finger to the figure moving somewhat sideways across the lawn, toward the gardens and forest. Credence stood and strode over the moist grass, the smell of rosemary fragrant in the air along with pine and moss. The gardens would have been a maze if they were in full bloom, but as they were now, the lush hedges stood as tall as his sternum. Newt was preoccupied in the center of the garden where the trickle of water could be heard—

He ducked out of sight, and popped back up again, sighting him. “Credence! Can I use you a moment?”

But when he made it to the center of the garden where wooden and iron benches sat around a small pond, he was puzzled by Newt’s request: “Make sure no one disturbs me.”

“Why? What are you doing?”

“Just cleaning,” he murmured, working his way inside his case. Familiar crates of black and lightwood were tossed out, along with a large jar Credence caught before it landed on the flagstones. Newt reemerged and tapped his wand against each corner of the open case. A veil, shimmery and loose fluttered over the opening. He took the crates and jar, strategically disappearing within the foliage before coming back empty handed. Then he sat cross-legged on a bench in front of his luggage, resting the backs of his hands on his knees, his wand balanced on a palm.

For a while, Credence thought he was falling asleep, but the leaves around them began to rustle, and Credence realized that particles were floating out of the case. The niffler appeared under the veil, sniffing and nudging, but while he could not escape, dust and dirt and dead leaves wafted out, while the veil fluttered with fresh air going in.

Dougal appeared as well, his silver head gently nudging the veil to see over the brim. The demiguise closed its large eyes, inhaling the fragrant air before making a light, groaning sound.

“Not now, darling,” Newt hushed, his eyes still closed. Credence saw his lips move slightly, an enchantment on his tongue. The niffler looked to Dougal, who only groaned and disappeared within once more. The niffler’s curiosity kept him in place while sounds from the other creatures could be heard. Dust and dirt more freely curled out of the case, but when a golden feather floated out, Newt’s eyes opened and his hand flashed in the air, catching it the same moment a clattering of wood could be heard.

“Ah! Finished,” he chimed, pocketing the feather in his notebook and going off to find his containers. The boxes were closed, but a good deal of skittering could be heard, while the jar was full of…slugs.

“The pukwudgies allowed me to catch only the garden pests here,” he explained to Credence’s unasked question. “I need spiders for the runespoors but they eat the pests here so I’ll need to go to the forest next. There ought to be a good deal of wood lice there, yes?” he added to Pickett, who perked up from under his lapel. The high pitched voice was a melody of excitement.

“Speaking of pests…” he eyed the niffler. “Don’t even think about it. Thank you, Credence!” He shut the case and was ready to stride to the trees with gusto when Tina appeared.

“Need any help, magizoologist?” she smirked.

Newt smiled shyly. “I can manage, but may I ask: are there centaurs in this forest?”

Her features flattened into a deadpan expression. “No…? Are there centaurs in Hogwarts’ forest?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied obviously. “Most forests are home to centaurs. It wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t know about them. They’re incredibly reclusive clans.”

“Clans?” she and Credence exchanged puzzled looks.

“Well both humans and horses are pack animals. You can’t expect the hybrid of the two to live in solitude.”

As if this was explanation enough, he recommenced his pursuit of the forest. Credence asked Tina, “Will he be all right?”

“I don’t know,” huffed, “but we better go with him to be sure he doesn’t accidentally get killed.”

*******

Dinner was a resplendent affair. The great hall of Ilvermorny was ovular but long benches let houses sit together or intermingle over the exquisite buffet. Headmistress Aiyana and her guests sat among the other teachers, who eagerly welcomed the Goldsteins. Many asked about Tina’s career as an auror, or Queenie for MACUSA gossip. Though initially Jacob was received with quiet skepticism, a few of the teachers eagerly asked his opinion on no-maj public transportation and what the purpose was of decorative pillows.

Credence sat between Newt and Queenie on the end of the table. He noticed how Newt favored the vegetable dishes over the meat ones, only reaching for the roast after he reached into his pocket and whipped his hand back out. “Ouch! When did you get in there?”

They looked down at the blue occamy head peering out of his coat pocket. From then on he handed down bites of roast for its meal.

Occasionally a student, with two or three in tow, was brave enough to approach the headmistress and ask who her guests were. “Misses Queenie and Tina Goldstein are former students,” she would introduce proudly. “They are traveling with Jacob, Credence, and Newt Scamander.”

This was usually as far as the inquiry went apart from a teacher remarking, “Rebecca is as good as you at dueling, Tina,” or “Queenie passed charms with top marks, Georgie, you’ll do well to learn from her example.”

After the meal but before their dessert, Aiyana stood and addressed the hall, giving a brief but lovely speech welcoming students back from their winter holiday and bidding them to stay warm against the resurgence of winter before the arrival of spring.

The teachers and guests remained for some time after the students left for their dormitories, chatting over dessert wines, warm whiskeys, and the occasional giggle water. Credence watched Newt approach the headmistress to excuse himself. She simply nodded and wished him good night. A short hiss drew his attention to Jacob, who leaned his head as if suggesting they leave too.

Following Newt’s lead, they bid adieu to Aiyana and the others before Jacob said, “This way. I wanna see somethin’.”

“What?” Credence asked with some trepidation.

To his surprise and perplexity, they arrived in the main hall, where the four house guardians stood above them. “Don’t you wanna see what house you’d be in?”

Credence peeked up at the statues as if they would come alive from being looked at wrong. “We don’t know if I’ll stay here,” he said.

“So?” Jacob shrugged with a smile. “I’d like to know, but I don’t have magic to make ‘em move. I…” he coughed suddenly, clearing his throat along with something that sounded a lot like, _“tried.”_

“Go on,” he said with more insistence, stepping back to give him room on the emblem. “Queenie said it didn’t hurt.”

Still he hesitated, feeling as if this was a breech in Aiyana’s trust…but what was the harm in simply standing on the floor? Maybe sorting could only be done if you were a child…

He stepped forward, across the circular band of the emblem and toward the center of the constellation design. The air halted in his throat. The stars twinkled beneath his feet, the animal figures and heroes of the sky lighting up and dancing under him while the white lines of the Gordian knot shimmered; its knotted strands wriggling lethargically. A loud yet soft movement yanked his gaze upward, where the large feline wampus was crouching close to him, its eyes glowing a deep amethyst.

Credence was frozen in place, sure the statue was staring right at him—into and through him. Then, it licked its paw, and sat erect to roar silently at the cupola above.

When the creature solidified once more, Credence looked down, seeing how the knot had been unwound to only fringe the border now, while the constellation of the wampus roared beneath his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read about Ilvermorny, it's a surprisingly [good read](https://www.pottermore.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/ilvermorny).


	6. Out of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The headmistress invites Tina to her office while Newt finds something in the forest.

Credence awoke in the case. Newt usually slept in here but since he had taken up teaching Credence magic, they practiced until Newt announced he needed to “send them to sleep,” which usually consisted of feeding the creatures, finding the niffler, and making sure the various enchantments affecting the habitats' lighting changed to whatever time of day the specific creatures needed to sleep.

Now he awoke to the twittering of the pink fwooper nearby before something flew across his vision and he saw a familiar bubble of sorts encase the bird on its swing. Credence looked back at where Newt was sitting at a lap desk, writing and waiting for his tea to steep. “Why’d you do that?”

Newt gave no indication he was surprised at Credence awaking. “A fwooper’s song is lovely but only for a short time before it drives you mad. Literally.”

Credence glanced at the exotic bird swinging contently within its bubble. “Why do you keep it, then?”

“I am studying him,” Newt explained without looking up. Credence noticed the fingers of the hand writing flexed with fatigue before he simply switched hands and kept writing. “The effects of his song on whole minds is known but what it can do to a less secure mind is not.”

Credence didn’t understand. “If someone’s insane? Wouldn’t the bird just make it worse?”

“You mean if the eggs are already scrambled, you’ll only burn them further?” Newt finally looked up. Credence could not read his expression. After a moment Newt only finished, “If it isn’t established, no one will ever know.”

Credence rose to a sitting position. “How are you studying it? If the song makes you go mad then…”

“He only sings in the morning and evening, just like any other bird,” Newt said offhandedly. “And most of the time, not unlike humans, he just wants to hear himself talk.”

Credence might have smiled if the Goldsteins had not arrived. “Good morning,” Tina said with her hands on her hips. “Anyone hungry?”

Queenie’s curls bounced as she said, “If you think my food’s good, wait ‘til you have an Ilvermorny breakfast!”

“Just a moment,” Newt said as sugar and milk poured themselves into his mug.

True to their words, the group entered the great hall in the middle of a meal with just as much grandeur as dinner. Silverware clattered and the room was pungent with the smell of bacon, sugar, and livery. They sat in the same seats as dinner, Jacob already halfway through his waffle and slab of casserole.

“Heya!” he welcomed. “Try the juice! It’s fresh squeezed!”

Without the initial shock from yesterday, Jacob was positively jubilant, conversing easily with the teachers and cutting a square of casserole for Credence’s plate. “The spices are just…” he kissed his fingertips for lack of words.

Credence could not disagree. Much like Queenie’s food, the meal was resplendent, delicious, and looked like more than any group of people could finish.

Professor Aiyana stood to wish the students a good day before they departed for their morning classes. In a softer voice she turned to Tina, “Would you join me in my office? Newt.”

He was finishing his tea as he removed the mug from his lips. “May we speak together over lunch?”

He nodded mutely before, “Yes, of course.”

Credence watched her leave the room with Tina as well as many of the other teachers on their way to their lessons. Credence turned to Newt, “Does this involve me?”

“Undoubtedly,” he said quietly.

“Wouldn’t she want to speak to me?”

“Oh I imagine she’s saving the best for last,” Newt said with an odd sense of mirth.

Jacob leaned over to say, “I woulda thought Queenie might’ve been her first choice.”

But Queenie was markedly silent on the matter, taking long pulls from her juice until Newt announced he was going down into the valley to visit the river. Jacob voiced, “Uh, you thinkin’ about a winter dip?”

“If necessary,” Newt answered vaguely. He stood and left Credence and Jacob to exchange puzzled looks with one another.

*******

While much of the grounds were level or mostly so, the descent to the river was steep before the grass leveled into silt and river stones on the bank. Credence and Jacob waddled sideways down the hill, using the trees as stopping points before they trotted over the sand and stopped by Newt's case. Boots, socks, and to their surprise, the niffler were all by the water's edge. Newt was knee deep in the water, holding his wand aloft like he was looking for something.

“Hey Newt,” Jacob called. “Is he s’posed’ta be out?”

Newt did a double take and refocused on the water. “I’ve made a barricade around him. It is marked by my things.”

Sure enough, the errant boots and socks marked a loose oval touching the lapping water. The niffler flittered between the water and a net magically containing water like a bucket, in which swam two glimmering fish.

“Did you lose somethin’?” Jacob chuckled, albeit nervously looking at Newt’s bare shins.

Instead of answering, Newt jerked his wand, a bright silver fish diving through the surface along with a good deal of water. It swam through the air to the niffler, who eagerly pawed at the fish and followed it to the net of captured fish.

“No,” he answered distractedly.

“Eh…all right, well,” Jacob lifted his eyebrows at Credence. “I’m gonna find Queenie for a stroll. You’re welcome t’come if you like.”

Credence shook his head, loosely gesturing to the niffler. “I’ll stay…just in case.”

Jacob laughed, “Hey, that’s a pun. Y’know, the case…”

Credence stared dumbly between him and the luggage. Jacob cleared his throat. “We’ll work on that. See ya, pal.”

Jacob began the trek back up the mountain while Credence wandered the bank before sitting near the case. Eventually Newt was satisfied with his catch and trudged back onto the shore. “Should be enough until England,” he said to no one in particular as he cast small blue flames onto his feet. The orbs wriggled over his ankles and toes, turning them a ripe pink but leaving the flesh unburnt. He shrugged into his coat as he sat next to Credence, silently pulling something out of his pocket and breaking it in half. Credence stared at the offered piece until he realized it was chocolate.

He peeled back the foil and tasted smooth sweetness before a burn sparked in his throat. He coughed, doubling over his knees before he realized Newt was rubbing his back. “Apologies. The chocolate has fire whiskey. It fulfills its purpose, though.”

A trill of water distracted Credence to where the niffler was cleaning its bill but he examined the chocolate in better detail. “Fire whiskey?”

“A wizard or witch’s drink,” Newt explained, breaking off another piece for himself. “Some claim they see flames in its amber depths but those people are usually three wands deep.”

“Wands?”

Newt swallowed before he held his own aloft for example. “I believe muggles say ‘finger’ as a unit of measurement. The width of the handle is how much one pours into the glass. Of course wizards with larger handles like to think highly of themselves.”

A sudden gust of breath left Credence. Newt peeked at him but the mirth was already gone as he tried another piece, coughing once but getting it down more smoothly. A robust scarlet filled his cheeks. After some time he accustomed to the burn and only tasted sweetness—

An odd sensation crept over Credence’s nape, a tickle and a shiver he was familiar with…

“I think someone’s watching us.”

“Yes, I agree,” Newt said, but his tone made Credence look at him. Newt’s eyes were down but he appeared far from bothered. “I felt it the moment I stepped into the river.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Excitedly. “It is intelligent, though. It is observing us.”

“It’s not a person?” Credence wondered.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Queenie said the horned serpent lives in the valley,” he remembered. “Could that be true?”

“I don’t know,” Newt said happily. “I have never had the pleasure of meeting a horned serpent. They are even more reclusive than centaurs. No one knows exactly what habitat the horned serpent prefers, making them immensely difficult to find. Fascinating.”

He looked at Credence suddenly, an exuberant smile on his face, but just as quickly, he pocketed the chocolate and stood. “I best be going. I can’t be late to our hostess. In you go.”

Plucking the niffler by the scruff, he shoved his arm into the case and snapped it closed after the net of water and fish was sucked in as well. The flames on his feet extinguished as he stepped into his socks and boots, the fabric sliding over his ankles and laces tying on their own.

He moved swiftly up the hill, using the trees as Credence had on his way down, zig-zagging over the grass. Credence made to follow him, only pausing to look back at the river and its tranquil green waters—

The air stopped in his throat. Out of the water, exactly where Newt once stood, had risen a great head with two curving horns. The eyes on him glimmered green like the water, but the stone on the beast’s forehead was bright like a moonstone. It reminded Credence less of the runespoors and more of the illustrations of dragons he had seen in books.

He ran after Newt up the mountain.

*******

Newt jogged up the stairs to the headmistress’s terrace, where he paused to straighten his coat and raised his hand to knock—

The door opened for him and her voice within summoned, “Make yourself comfortable, Newt.”

Peeking within at first, Newt slowly entered and observed the high ceiling with its own glass cupola, which made sense for the amount of flora in the room. The walls were hardly visible for all of the vines and flowers reaching for the sunlight. In the middle of the room sat Aiyana, her table a simple garden table of iron and glass. By the crackling fireplace rolled three cats among potted plants at which they playfully cloyed and gnawed.

“You truly never let the case out of sight,” she observed with a warm curve to her lips. “Do I dare ask what all you keep in there?”

“It will become quite apparent once my book is published,” Newt replied but not unkindly, finding a seat opposite her.

She chuckled. “A volume’s worth of creatures right there in your hand.”

He nodded once, avoiding her gaze in favor of the plants around them. “I suppose Tina told you about it.”

“She told me how you met, regarding a bank and a niffler.”

Newt shook his head. “He’s incorrigible. Anything shiny, and he becomes very difficult.”

“So a bank is the worst place to bring him,” Aiyana laughed.

“It wasn’t by choice,” Newt assured with a flash of a smile.

“Tina also told me about Frank.” Newt fell silent. “I would like to thank you for bringing him back.”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “That’s not necessary. I only did what was right.”

“No. You did what was inconvenient and deadly. Very few people would have worked to earn a thunderbird’s trust, let alone attempt to smuggle him under Madame Picquery’s eye. This makes you a far more cunning wizard than I would have previously predicted.”

He shook his head gently. “But these creatures aren’t deadly. People’s ignorance is.”

She was quiet long enough for him to peek up at her. She was not angry. “I must agree,” she said pleasantly. “Which is why I would like to discuss Credence Barebone.”

His eyebrows twitched, furrowing. They had never introduced Credence by his last name. Aiyana sensed his thoughts and explained, “Ilvermorny is not exactly close to New York. But it is close enough. This proximity along with Madame Picquery being a former student here, makes us especially privy of threats in the eastern United States. I mean to say the report of the obscurus, Credence Barebone, being extinguished was transmitted here the day he…was supposed to be dead.”

She slid a paper over the glass. It looked every bit a classified document, and at the bottom was the date and time of Credence’s death, along with Picquery’s signature glistening in gold ink.

“So you can imagine my curiosity and surprise to have another Credence arrive not a month afterward,” Aiyana finished. “It is an especially unique name, after all.”

Newt gazed at the document for a long time, long enough to read it twice over. “Did Tina tell you why she lost her job?”

“Yes,” Aiyana replied, leaning back in her chair. Her long fingers were interlaced on her knee.

“Then you know in what environment Credence grew up.”

“I do.”

He blinked several times before admitting, “I don’t understand.”

“It is not the nature of his growing an obscurus that concerns me,” she elaborated, “but rather what he did while he had it. The number of no-majs killed by him is…a bit larger than I can ignore.”

The muscles in Newt’s jaw clenched. “He is not evil,” he almost whispered.

“I can see that,” she said, more gently than ever. “The way he clings to you and Tina; he is a bird learning flight for the first time. An animal caged and at last feeling grass under his feet. I understand this, but alas the running of this school is a democracy, and I am not the monarch of it.”

Newt’s chin jerked up. “How many have you told?”

“None,” she supplied, “but a board handles the larger decisions of this school and alas, once they learn that your Credence is the same Credence, they will be nigh convincible of letting him stay here.”

But this wasn’t what Newt wanted to hear. “You’re…you’re not even going to try? Must Credence change his name?”

She shook her head once. “The teachers already know his name and have been whispering their suspicions. In actuality it is not so much the board Credence would have to fight against, but the faculty. They will never let a murderer live at this school.”

 _“He’s not—”_ Newt darkened.

“But he _is,”_ Aiyana hushed, “and that is how they will see him. They will question whether the obscurus is truly gone or simply hiding in wait. And even if you somehow convinced them that you managed a miracle in separating the obscurus from Credence, this will not pardon him from his crimes. It may only raise their suspicions of you. I am sorry, Newt, I am. Credence seems like a bright young man whose youth was stolen from him. But this is out of my hands. I am sorry.”

*******

Credence found Tina on the grounds, pacing. He thought she might have been bored and waiting for Queenie to return from her walk with Jacob, but the worry in her doe eyes was more pronounced than usual. “What is it?”

Her steps halted and she exclaimed, “Oh, Credence. I didn’t see you—I guess Newt’s with her now?”

He nodded mutely. “Did something happen?”

She fidgeted, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Eventually she sighed, “I wish Newt was here. He’s always honest with you, isn’t he.”

It was both question and statement. Credence nodded again. She sighed more raggedly, “Yeah. He’s better at this than I am.”

“Better at what?”

She met his gaze, her own forlorn. “At giving bad news.”

*******

It was Credence’s turn to go for a walk. He could not say he was surprised, but rather…it still… _hurt._ Rejection still ached deeper than he would like for it to. He realized he enjoyed Ilvermorny. He understood its charm, and the Goldsteins’ loyalty to it, but as he walked the lawns and heard the students’ laughter, he began to grow anxious about Hogwarts. Newt had made the schools sound similar, but this Dumbledore was supposedly a unique man…

His head was heavy as he lifted it to see Newt himself sitting on a stone wall about waist high. Behind him were the gardens, before him was the forest, and it was one of the few times Credence had seen Newt so stationary and contemplative.

Credence climbed over the wall to face the same direction as him, and he thought Newt might have been too deep inside his thoughts to notice him but he was wrong.

“I’m sorry, Credence,” Newt apologized, catching him off guard. “I’d forgotten. I saw past the involuntary actions of an abused young man. For your happiness to be neglected for so long, you reacted very well to the sudden attention, so I…I suppose in the first moment I saw your character, not your anger or the obscurus, I found you very likable.”

Credence’s arms moved as if he did not know what to do with them. “Thank you but…you’re the only one who thinks that.”

Newt looked at him then, his eyes tired. “That’s not true. Long before me, there was Tina. Queenie adores you and Jacob, well…birds of a feather do fly together. Souls cut from the same cloth tend to recognize one another. Take it from me.”

Credence’s chin lifted. “You’ve said that before.”

Newt blinked twice and his head tipped to the side. “Yes, well, I know what it means to be abnormal. I could not claim an abundance of friends when I was your age, and I hadn’t killed anybody.”

He huffed a breath, but not a true laugh, like he was avoiding something. Credence ventured, “Why didn’t you have friends?”

Newt had looked down, but his head jerked back up. “Oh. I annoy people.”

He frowned slightly. “How do you know?”

“They tell me.”

Newt watched Credence absorb this and nodded before looking back down, as if it was merely a truth he had accepted. Almost.

“But it’s all right,” he said weakly before clearing his throat. “We were never intended to stay here anyways. It was always Hogwarts for you. We mustn’t view this as a failure—”

His words stopped abruptly. Credence watched him but Newt’s gaze was deep within the trees. Without warning, he leapt off the wall, grabbed his case, and ran oddly sideways down the hill into the forest. Credence could only follow and keep up.

Newt weaved through the trees, his steps light and sure until his splayed fingers caught Credence in mid-stride. Newt pulled him behind a wide tree trunk, guiding him to peek slowly around it, and what he saw made Credence immensely confused. “What is that?” he whispered.

“That. Is a hippogriff,” Newt declared, but then his features fell into a deeply unhappy expression. “No. No, no, why are you here? This doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” But Newt was already setting his case down and confusing Credence further by removing his coat.

“See the russet of her feathers? She is a French breed. She shouldn’t—her wings are clipped,” he realized darkly. “Look after these,” he said in a haste, also handing over his wand. Credence suddenly faced bright hazel-ish blue eyes. “Whatever happens. Stay. Here.”

Before he could ask what he was about to do, Newt left him by the tree. Rubbing his hands together so the sound of friction would announce his presence, Newt approached the hippogriff, whose feathers lifted in anger. Its golden eyes locked on Newt, its beak threateningly jutting forward, talons pawing the soil. Credence’s jaw dropped, wanting to call out to him but to his utter terror and perplexity, Newt flipped his palms open with a flourish, and bowed deeply to the bird…horse…beast.

For a moment Credence might have sworn the hippogriff was just as unsettled. She screeched as if her vocal chords were torn, stepping this way and that, but Newt never moved. Then Credence saw it: a tarnished chain around her neck, clearly torn from something as it jangled with her movements.

The hippogriff's head shook, and she charged Newt down. Credence sucked in air to yell but Newt dropped to his knee, his open hands on the ground. Instead of colliding with him, the hippogriff’s head shook again as she trotted around him, as if examining him. She came to stand opposite him, meeting his steady gaze and staring him down, only to chuff and trot away.

Newt did not move. Just as quickly as she had left, the hippogriff galloped back to him, charging only to halt just a step before him again. The dirt she kicked up hit Newt’s face, but he hardly moved, until finally the creature stood opposite him and bowed it’s own head.

Newt slowly began to rise, but the hippogriff charged once more, lowering him back to his knee. This happened twice more before the hippogriff bowed deeper than before, satisfied, and let Newt stand erect. He extended his arms slowly in offering. The hippogriff screeched, refusing him, but he simply paused and continued to slowly approach until one hand touched the chain on her neck. The large beak pecked his arm. Credence could see red but Newt’s fingers kept doing something until he pivoted one of the links, and the chain fell entirely from her form.

Startled, the hippogriff stepped away from him. Newt remained statuesque, doing everything he could not to lose the fragile trust he just made. For several moments, Credence was not sure if she would charge or attack him, until she slowly and outright placed her beak on Newt's palm. “You’re dehydrated,” he observed, touching the delicate skin under a golden eye. “You were looking for water, weren’t you? You smell it. I know a quicker way. Come on.”

He did the maddening action of turning his back on the creature, only turning back to chime, “Come on!”

The hippogriff squawked and did so, trotting after him. “Credence! Get Tina and bring her to the river!” he called without looking back.

“But—Newt!”

“Get Tina!” he only heard, as Newt was well out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, but I thought it was a good suspenseful stopping place~


	7. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Tina have a difference of opinion when it comes to dealing with smugglers.

Credence’s throat burned as he came to a stop in front of the Goldsteins and Jacob. “What’s wrong, honey?” the youngest exclaimed the same time Jacob grasped Credence’s shoulders and pushed his spine up straight.

“I know y’wanna lean over but it’s better for your breathing if you stay like this,” he said. “I take it y’don’t run much.”

“Where’s Newt?” Tina said, her eyes on Newt’s things in Credence’s arms.

Credence sucked in air, “We found a…a hippogriff? In the trees. Newt wants you down by the river.”

Jacob had been taking the load out of Credence’s hands when he perked up. “A hippogriff?”

The Goldsteins looked at him as if he ought to be the last person familiar with such a thing. “What? I’ve dabbled in mythology. Hippogriffs are the horses with eagle heads, right? Or was it a lion’s head? Yeah, I imagine that would stand out for Newt to find.”

Tina sighed, _“Why_ does Newt feel like he needs’ta help everything?”

“There was a chain around its neck,” Credence relayed. That silenced Tina. “And Newt said her wings were clipped.”

“Smugglers,” Tina said, exchanging a look with her sister.

“Here?” Queenie wondered. “Kinda stupid, smuggling big creatures across school grounds, huh?”

Tina huffed, “Last I checked, smugglers weren’t that good at keeping their animals contained. The river, you said?”

Credence nodded the same moment her eyes fell on Newt’s wand in his hand. _“He gave you his wand?”_ she all but screeched.

“I think he thought she wouldn’t trust him if he had it,” Credence said, moving as if to hide the wand behind his hip.

“Arugh!” Tina only groaned and took off down the slope through the trees.

Traveling downhill made their progress swift. Their steps halted just before the river stones, but the press of grass and soil still roused the hippogriff by the water’s edge. Her wings flapped uselessly as she cried out threateningly. Credence looked to Newt, whose finger moved in a circle while his head nodded forward.

_Bow._

Slowly, Credence moved the wand to a back pocket as he slowly bowed at the hips, one of his knees slightly bent as he’d seen Newt do. Queenie followed suit, lifting her eyebrows at Tina before all four of them bent forward. Credence watched the hippogriff’s head tilt this way and that, before twisting to look at Newt, who likewise bowed once more. After a long minute, the hippogriff bowed to them and turned to gallop into the river. Its head plunged under the water and came back up with a large, wriggling fish.

Credence moved quickly to Newt and handed him his wand. He glanced at the water and around them, but the serpent was gone. Newt accepted his wand and pocketed it so his hands could accept his coat and case from Jacob.

He procured a stiff bristled, ovular brush and dragged it over the hippogriff’s round thigh. She squawked, looking back at him, but soon returned to her fish while he groomed. As dirt and grime left her, Newt revealed how her fur and feathers were a mixture of rusty red, browns, and creamy whites. Her rump was speckled white and her feathers glistened when he disposed of the brush and used his fingers to ruffle her feathers and sift through them. Occasionally she shivered and pecked at him, but after she dashed back into the water for a second fish, a sound akin to purring emanated from her.

“So what’s the deal here?” Tina asked, approaching but giving the creature a wide berth. “You think she was bein’ smuggled?”

“I know she was,” he murmured. His hands glossed over her neck, carefully lifting feathers to reveal raw skin. “She was chained.” He moved along the hippogriff’s body, his fingers splaying over ribs and a fuller belly.

He suddenly reached for her hand, pulling a reluctant Tina forward while the creature was otherwise distracted. Newt placed her palm on the hippogriff’s flank. Tina shifted uncomfortably before she froze, her lips parting as she looked at Newt. “She’s pregnant?”

His eyes were soft as they avoided hers, but he nodded and let her hand go. When he did look up he said earnestly, “I don’t know how many there are but this can’t stand, Tina, it can’t.”

“And it won’t,” she confirmed. “Where did you find her, exactly? And I mean, _exactly_ , Newt, or else I can’t track this properly.”

Newt and Credence’s eyes met. “Do you remember?” the former asked.

Credence considered it and nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

Tina seemed ready to leave but she frowned at Newt. “Are you not coming?”

He shook his head apologetically. “I must stay with her. Her condition is fragile, and hippogriffs follow those they trust. If I try and make her go back where I found her, I’ll lose her.”

“I’ll go with her,” Queenie assured, and reached for Jacob’s arm to say, “Stay with Newt, okay?”

He shook his head. “I don’t like it. I oughta know: folks get real protective over their meal tickets.”

Newt seconded, “He’s right. There is no way to know how skilled a group of smugglers is with magic, but you can always trust their ruthlessness. You must be on your guard.” Then it occurred to him, “Lead them here.”

Tina looked concerned. “Here? Are you sure?”

Newt glanced at the river behind him. “The river can be our advantage. A strong current runs along the riverbed. I’m certain it is even stronger farther out. You needn’t win a duel; just push them far enough.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jacob announced with a hand on his waistcoat. “Hey, I know what I look like, and they’ll underestimate you if I’m along. But don’t think I’m not quick on my feet when I need t’be.”

Newt’s brows disappeared beneath his curly fringe. “He outran an erumpent in heat and punched a goblin mob lord… I’d say he will be just fine in the face of smugglers.”

Jacob grinned. “Thanks, Newt.”

But worry filled Credence’s eyes. “You’ll be alone here?”

Newt gave a smile of reassurance. “Usually I am alone in dealing with traffickers, and this time you four will be doing it. This is actually quite a relief.”

Tina scoffed, “Yeah, you take a load off while I do my job on my vacation.”

“I don’t believe you mind very much,” Newt teased.

Tina could not deny that and gently placed a hand on Credence’s shoulder. “Come on, we gotta go before they get too far or get reckless from noticing one of their cargo is gone.”

He let her pull him back but he turned to look at Newt, whose head was tilted and his gaze was soft, telling Credence to go.

Credence needed to return to the stone wall in order to navigate back to where Newt had courted the hippogriff, but the scuffed ground and tossed up dirt was easy enough to find. Tina withdrew her dark-wooded wand and said words Credence had not yet learned, but from the ground arose figures not unlike ghosts: remnants of Newt’s scent moving in the air as he had while a larger figure pranced around him.

But the phantoms were rewinding; Newt and hippogriff returned, the hippogriff rising from its bow and trotting backwards around him before Newt’s phantom vanished and it was only the hippogriff. Tina took off after the translucent vapor, its near transparency making it hard to find at times in the trees—

Queenie grabbed Tina’s arm, drawing her to a halt. “I can hear them.”

“And?” her sister said quietly.

“They’re considering…”

Tina’s brows jumped impatiently. “Considering what?”

“Abandoning the hippogriff. They…” her features fell as she met her sister’s eyes. “They have so many.”

 _“How many,_ Queen?” she demanded.

Queenie blinked, trying to sift through thoughts. “Three? Almost three?”

Tina frowned. “What do you mean ‘almost three’?”

“Dozen.”

Jacob whistled softly. “That’s quite a business.”

Tina said incredulously, “They’ve gotta be traveling like Newt; keepin’em in cases. Let’s go. Credence,” She paused to lock eyes with him, “when things start happening, you need to warn Newt they’re coming. You’ll be able to get away once they’re focused on fighting us.”

“Teenie…” Queenie whispered, her gaze distant. She pointed through the trees where the distant echo of voices could be heard. Tina took her sister’s hand and they went first into the trees before Jacob stopped them.

“Let me confront them first.”

“Jacob…” Queenie uttered but his hand on her cheek stopped her words.

“Doll, in my world women are secretaries and yet men still think they’re superior to th’ladies managing their paperwork of the bank accounts. I’m not sayin’ it’s right, but if they see me first, I’ll be all they see for a few minutes. This will give ya time to pick through their thoughts, yeah?”

Her lips pressed together before she nodded. Jacob hooked a thumb at Credence, “Plus we got Credence’s slick threads. They’ll be real interested in someone who has money.”

“I don’t have money,” Credence countered.

“It’s an illusion we’re playing at,” Jacob explained. “You ever been to a play?” Credence shook his head. “Huh. Well I’ll take ya some time. It’s nice. You don’t have’ta speak, just look pretty.”

Queenie giggled because the look on Credence’s face showed he had never been told such a thing in his life.

And so Jacob led the way through the trees to where three men and a woman were huddled around a blue flame in a jar. They shot up upon Jacob calling, “Morning, all.”

Four wands pointed at him.

“Hey, hey, I’m not here to fight ya. Did you all lose somethin’?”

“Mayhap,” one of the men said, who had clearly not known a razor since before the war. His brown eyes flicked to Credence. “If you’re wanting us to buy her off you, she was ours to begin with. You New York types always try to flash some wealth and think you’ve some authority over us. But I’d wager you got moths sleeping under that velvet, eh?”

Credence was stiff whereas Jacob chuckled. “No, no, nothin’ like that. I just wanted to tell ya she’s down by the river. You know, uh, she’s a danger to the students and all, so if you could take her off school grounds, that’d be real helpful.”

“You a teacher?” one of the other men said.

Jacob paused, and then said, “No. No, a teacher wouldn’t take well to folks comin' here without permission, would they?”

The woman spoke up, her hair braided behind her. “And who are you to?”

Jacob grinned real wide. “I’m just a distraction, ma’am.”

“What?”

“Gotta go.” Jacob grabbed Credence and dove out of Tina and Queenie’s way. Credence landed while light flew out of the Goldsteins’ wands but Credence was already being hauled to his feet. Jacob was stronger as well as faster than he looked, leading the way down the mountain. Occasionally Credence heard magic thud near him in a tree trunk; he felt splinters of wood rain over him but Jacob zigzagged through the trees until they stumbled over the river stones.

Newt was on the other end of the riverbank, perking up alongside the hippogriff at the commotion. The hippogriff reacted loudly as Newt drew his wand. Credence looked behind him and felt his stomach plummet. Queenie and Tina were right with them, the smugglers blasting spells from their rustically carved wands. The woman shrieked, “I see her!”

Credence was still running to Newt but the stones underfoot made his progress slow—

He heard the familiar words, _Wingardium leviosa,_ as he felt himself lifted into the air. Jacob, Queenie, and Tina were with him, flying both far from the trees as well as from the water. Almost as quickly, he saw the smugglers tumble into the river as if they had been thrown. The spell fire halted momentarily as they resurfaced, sputtering water…

The river was moving, but not in the proper direction. The water flowed up current, rising into a wall at the command of Newt’s hand, and under the water’s surface tension rippled two horns. Not two, but four upper fangs pierced through the water as the great serpent coiled through the air, striking the nearest man. The speed of the human disappearing within the serpent’s depths was unnerving as it quickly struck another, a third, and the woman’s screaming bubbled under the water as Newt let the water slowly descend back over the stones.

The hippogriff squawked, and squawked again, her wings flapping energetically as Newt pocketed his wand and rubbed a hand over his shirtfront, having also removed his waistcoat. “Are you all right?” he asked Credence.

The four of them stared at him with a mixture of horror and awe before nodding mutely. “Good,” Newt chimed, and strolled over the stones in the direction they had come.

Credence rushed to his feet and after him. “How did you know that…that thing would help you?”

Newt ducked his head to listen and peered at him with an innocently curious expression. “I didn’t. No one ever mentioned children being eaten in the valley and the area was not restricted, so I assumed whatever lived here was protective of its home. Hogwarts has a squid who is similar.”

“NEWT!”

“Oh goodness…” Newt sighed, and turned, “Yes?”

“Those smugglers!” she erupted. “They’re—They—THAT IS NOT HOW WE DEAL WITH THINGS!”

“You mean with paperwork and jail cells?”

She gaped at him. “Yes!”

“Is there an investigation happening for smugglers in this area?”

“Well—no.”

“So nothing can be finished that was never begun?”

"Newt!" she said angrily.

"This won't be like New York again," he scolded tiredly, "with you berating me over the length of the island for doing something wrong."

“We have trials here, Newt!” she stormed.

“You and I didn’t have a trial,” he countered.

Her mouth opened and then snapped shut before she opened it again. “That was _different._ Graves was in charge, then.”

“You were arrested?” Credence blurted.

“It wasn't the first time,” Newt disregarded. He turned back to Tina. “What are you going to do? Arrest a large and possibly ancient snake? Now if you would excuse me, I am sure I have several other creatures needing my attention—”

“Newt? Uh…” Jacob grabbed their attention. “Queenie, uh, is in some sorta trance? Is this normal?”

Their eyes landed on Queenie, who was staring dreamily by the water…the serpent’s body arched over her.

“Queenie!” Tina screamed, but Newt reached for her wand arm.

“Don’t! I think…I think she’s talking to it.”

She looked back at him with worry and panic. “We never saw this thing while we were in school!”

“Maybe _you_ didn’t,” he recommended, but the air halted in his throat. Queenie and the serpent were looking at him. Pocketing his wand and switching the hand that was holding his case, he returned to the water, where the serpent’s eyes never moved from him.

Queenie’s head sagged to the side. _“Thanks for the meal,”_ she murmured. _“I have felt those fiends tread through my valley and over my mountains for two years. You are here for two days and you brought them to me. Thank you.”_

Newt looked between her and the serpent before he said, “I apologize, my lineage has not given me parseltongue.”

 _“Ironic,”_ she… _they_ answered.

Newt’s lips curved with a smile. “Perhaps. If I may ask…two years? Why so long?”

 _“The stone boys do not like me to wander. Half a millennium and they still do not trust me. They care more for the children than my valley. But you…you are interesting—_ Isn’t he? Newt’s a real honey,” Queenie interrupted, rubbing Newt’s arms.

The serpent’s eyes slid to her. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized. _“I have a request.”_

He blinked. “Yes?”

The serpent’s clear eyelids slid over its eyes in a blink. _“There are more than hippogriffs in the fiends' cages. You may take the steeds. Leave the rest.”_

“What are the rest?” he asked with concern.

 _“You will see,”_ was all he said as to this. His green eyes slid over to Credence, who visibly reacted under its gaze. If the serpent had thoughts, he kept them to himself as he turned back to Newt and his coat and waistcoat resting on his arm. _“Most humans are weak to the cold of this season. You are not.”_

Newt’s hand touched his shirtfront again, straightening a button that was already in place. “I’m fine,” he blurted. “Quite alright.”

The glossy eyelids slicked over those river green eyes before he heard within his own head, _No. Your flesh is marked by a hot-blooded thing. Something as old as I._

Newt could only stare, transfixed by his eyes and murmur, “Please don’t read my mind.”

The serpent chuckled inside his head. _You are the only man to ask as nicely, Newt Scamander. I will do this for you, as I know you will do as I asked you._

He began slithering backwards into the water. _If you journey to this land again, Newton Scamander, come see me. It is so rare I find humans I like, let alone see them more than once. Your lives are so short._

He disappeared underneath the water, and not a second passed before Newt stepped quickly over the stones, released from the serpent’s hold. He strode with his head down past Tina, Jacob, and Credence, who could only gape at him and Queenie. The latter opened her mouth to call Newt’s name, but her sister suddenly interrogated her over her relations with the valley’s most prominent resident.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she exclaimed.

“I didn’t need to,” her sister uttered softly, watching Newt make haste over the riverbank.

“What do you mean?” Tina shrieked, slow to process events. “Queenie, is this where you snuck down after class all the time?”

But Queenie only watched the hippogriff trot over the riverbank in Newt’s wake, her eyes dreamily dazed. A familiar voice perpendicular to them drew their gazes:

“Mind telling me what’s been happening?” the headmistress asked, with a glance at the hippogriff disappearing with Newt. William stood with her, a bow and shaft of arrows slung over his shoulder.

*******

Chief Aiyana heard their account of the morning with receptive ears and frowning unhappiness. At one point she turned to William, “Why did I never hear of this?”

He sniffed gruffly. “They never came over the river before. Was never mine or your problem before.”

“Nonetheless, I should have been informed,” she scolded.

He grimaced angrily. “Last arrow I flew went into someone more bothersome than a smuggler. I won’t waste my poison or my arrows on them.”

“Your pride is ridiculous, William,” she huffed, as if this was simply the continuation of a long standing argument.

He made another gruff sound but his eyes suddenly darted over the riverbank. “Where is he? That ginger one? The one with the purse?”

“He has a name, you old crab.” Aiyana rubbed between her brows for calm before she too perked up. “Where have Newt and the creature gone?”

“Likely to find the smuggler’s cages,” Tina narrated dryly.

“Shall we join him, then?” Aiyana said, starting over the grass. Credence followed in the back of their party with Jacob and Queenie. He saw William’s lips snarled at the water, but the serpent was nowhere to be seen.

Deep in the trees where the smugglers had left their jarred flame sat Newt, but it was not him who halted Aiyana’s steps. Above him in various heights, were at least a dozen augureys. Their feathers of green, turquoise, and black were bright against the bark and green pine, their deep sonorous song resonating in the air. Credence understood the superstition Newt had explained now, as their twittering was already melancholic but extraordinarily loud, celebrating their freedom.

A hippogriff screamed, coming around a tree and startling Credence enough that Queenie caught him and gently lowered him into a bow while he recovered. When he looked up, he saw the steel grey hippogriff bowing to Aiyana while several others watched on from around Newt. It seemed the three dozen animals were split rather evenly between augureys and hippogriffs.

Newt himself was sitting over a stark white hippogriff on the earth, a number of bowls and potted plants around him. As they drew closer, Credence saw the albino red eyes that were crusted with sickness. Newt was sewing sutures on its rear leg. From a jar he scooped a creamy red clay which he delicately brushed over the stitches before he reached for a mortar and pestle, as well as tearing leaves from various plants.

William broke from them and rounded the hippogriff to where Newt was working by its head. Credence warily followed and saw a bundle of something that smelled like spices burning beside its beak. William snatched it up and gave it a sniff, along with a disgusted, “Meh…”

Newt startled as if he had just noticed them. “Please—it's a sedative blend! It’s soothing him—”

“I know well what it’s doing,” William snapped before he yanked the instruments from Newt’s hands. He plucked the long leaves out of the mortar, sniffing them and even tearing off an end with his teeth to chew before he spat it on the ground. He looked at Newt, and then at the hippogriff, and then angrily thrust the tools against Newt’s chest. “Go on with it, then.”

Newt bunched the leaves and twisted, measuring how much juice came from them with his eyes before he snapped off a large spear from an aloe plant and let some of the goo fall into the bowl before he set it on his thigh for later. Mixing with his pestle, he swirled the contents as he found a dropper, and carefully let the medicine fall into the hippogriff’s scarlet eye. The large beast shivered, a weak sound coming from him.

“Almost, almost,” Newt hushed. With knife in hand, he used the back to carefully remove the crusts around the eye before he prepared the aloe into strips and put them in place of the crust. He then began grooming the creature’s feathers as he had with the first hippogriff, the sensations calming the creature further so the same purr emanated from it.

Credence had come to sit by him but he peeked at William, who had procured his own medicines for an augurey who was less in need but had missing feathers. Credence’s head spun back around as Newt said, “I should have guessed when I saw the augurey nest at the school. They normally roost in thorn bushes but they’ll do just fine here.”

Aiyana turned toward him. “And the hippogriffs?”

“They’ll travel with me,” Newt replied as he lifted Pickett onto his shoulder and met Credence’s eyes. “We’ll need to make a detour in England, but I know a safe place for them.”

“Will ya have enough room for this many?” Jacob wondered.

“I will,” Newt said as he descended into his case, enchanting his plants to follow him within before his head perked back up and he waved his wand. Several pinecones soared into the case.

Credence followed him in and shut the door of the caravan for nothing to get out while Newt was working. Credence saw that to the right, in the center of all the habitats, was an area full of potted plants including herbs, vegetables, and other plants wiggling inside their pots. After Newt replaced his medicinal flora, he stood before the thunderbird roost. He looked between the stone fixture and the walls of the erumpent habitat beside it as he sighed.

“Bigger…much bigger,” Credence heard him mutter before he raised his wand and the metal framework of the roost and walls disintegrated to reform in a metal railing marking the new habitat. The erumpent had been rolling in her pond but now perked up curiously. Newt commanded the wheelbarrow of mooncalf dung to roll over, along with sacks of soil. The sandstone crumbled to mix with the soil, dung, and pinecones, and before Credence’s eyes he saw the rear wall of the case shoot backward while saplings thrust out of the soil to create a forest then and there.

Newt’s wand then pointed upwards, moving as if controlling something Credence could not see, and then the caravan door burst open to allow the albino hippogriff to be sucked into its new sanctuary. Newt gently set the creature on the grassy patch within the railing barricade, and none too soon as more hippogriffs charged into the case. The erumpent was already rubbing her tusk against a tree of their shared habitat.

But then a small augurey fluttered in and perched on the gate Newt was closing behind the hippogriffs. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he smiled softly, offering his fingers for the bird to nibble before it flew off to a tree. “Well…I won’t deny you a home.”

He turned back to Credence, who was visibly overwhelmed. Over his dark eyes glistened tears that did not fall, his red lips parted in awe. He jumped slightly when Newt lightly touched his arm. Credence’s chin fell to look at the hand touching him before he picked it back up to gaze at Newt. “Will I be able to do that?”

“You already can,” Newt assured. “A levitation spell may seem very little but it can do a great deal. Mooncalf dung is an impressive fertilizer, that's all.”

“But the wall,” Credence insisted. “You made this place bigger. You did two spells at once and without speaking.”

A smile flashed on Newt’s face before he looked down, embarrassed by the praise. His hand slid inside Credence’s elbow. The touch was simple yet intimate. “All in good time. You were marvelous today.”

He began to walk back toward the caravan. “But…I didn’t do anything.”

Newt turned back to him. “You did not panic. You didn’t upset the creatures. You never lost your calm. You’re more useful in a strenuous situation than you give yourself credit for. Sometimes exactly what must be done…is nothing. Thank you, Credence. They will live very long, happy lives because of you.”

He nodded toward the hippogriffs rolling and trotting and lounging in the grass with the erumpent. Credence watched them for a moment before a soft smile curved his lips. When he turned back around, Newt was already out of the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not actually take any medical advise from this lol


	8. Sorted and Unsorted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiyana gives Credence something while Jacob discovers something Newt is hiding.

Credence was not sure what he was eating but he liked it very much. Breakfast at Ilvermorny was proving to be an explorative experience, both in how many pastries it was acceptable to have in the morning as well as how many ways an egg could be cooked. “What is this?” he murmured to Queenie.

Jacob was the one who answered. “Oh, that’s eggs benedict. It’s the hollandaise,” he grinned, before an owl interrupted their meal. The students pointed with awe and giggles, watching it swoop into the room but make a rather direct flight to land right in front of Newt. Small and rounded, the golden barn owl’s head swiveled at the onlookers while Newt relieved its talons of two slim parcels. He had given the owl a bit of bacon and was tearing the letter open before he noticed the table of teachers staring at him.

“Wizard post is delivered by owl in Britain,” he provided, but after the head shakes and gazes returning to their breakfast, he discretely ruffled the owl’s feathers while he read his mail. When he finished, he pocketed the unopened parcel and left the table. The owl flew on soundless wings, following him out as he left the great hall.

Credence heard a soft chuckle and saw the headmistress chortling while rubbing her fingers under her chin. He felt his insides bob when her eyes turned toward him. He nervously looked down and away, pushing his food on his plate but suddenly without his appetite.

He heard Aiyana say conversationally, “You leave tomorrow evening?”

Tina confirmed, “Madame Picquery expects us back at work.”

“Then Credence, would you join me?”

Credence felt as if a hand had just gripped his esophagus. His head lowered in its customary hunch, trying to appear very small until Aiyana voiced quietly beside his chair. “You’ll be needing a wand, yes?”

Credence couldn’t believe his ears. He slowly perked up to see the sincerity in her olive eyes, and nodded. “Then come with me,” she ordered, but not unkindly.

They exited a side door beside the teachers’ table and walked for some time. Aiyana led him into a long, wide corridor with a counter on one side and windows on the other. He realized this was their destination once Newt entered from the other end.

“Newt,” Aiyana greeted. “Did you have trouble finding your way?”

Instead of answering, Newt moved aside for Peter to enter. “Message delivered, Chief!”

“Thank you, Peter,” she smiled warmly. “Would you be so kind as to help Credence find a wand?”

The pukwudgie rushed behind the long counter, where shelves upon shelves held wand boxes. On either side were supply closets as well as cupboards under the counter, which only held more wands, but Peter did not reach for any of them. Once behind the counter, he set his palms on the surface, and leaned nose to nose with Credence. “What’s your wood?”

Credence gaped, “My—My what?”

Aiyana stifled her humor as she commented, “He was not raised with magic.”

“Oh!” Peter chimed. “Then what’s your personality like?”

“Something strong but flexible,” Newt said quietly, coming closer to the counter on silent steps.

Peter grinned, “Okay!” and rushed to a certain section of the wand display. The room smelled of carved wood and burnt shavings; not an unfriendly odor. The pine and winter coming through one of the open windows gave the room a fresh, woodsy feeling...with something more that Credence could not place.

Peter popped up from underneath the counter with a green box. “Try this one!” he sang, offering the wand to him. Credence took the slim wand of warm wood into his hand; the handle was more pronounced than Newt’s wand and unfamiliar in his grip.

Credence looked at Peter, whose chin settled on his palms expectantly. “What am I supposed to—?”

But he could not finish for the wand abruptly sparked on the end and the innards combusted, causing him to drop the wand on the counter. Peter’s touch doused the flames, but not before the wand was rendered useless.

“Much…stronger…” Newt murmured apologetically.

Credence peeked at Aiyana, anxious for breaking one of her wands—

“A wampus, indeed,” she uttered to no one in particular, halting Credence’s breath. Far from bothered, she suggested, “Try the firs, Peter, then the birch.”

Peter eagerly began plucking boxes from left and right, while Credence watched the headmistress warily. Did she know? How would she know that he’d stood on the emblem? Then again, he supposed it was her job to know the house of every student…

A new wand was presented to him. It was quite yellow and curved a bit on the end. Credence held it uncomfortably for a moment before he set it down. “N-No, I don’t think…I don’t want to ruin more of them.”

Peter laughed merrily. “That’s no problem! A wizard might go through fifteen wands in his lifetime!”

“A reckless one, perhaps,” Aiyana countered, but then assured, “Wands are tools and tools are disposable. Ease your mind and let them try you on.”

“Yeah! You’ll know it when you feel it!” Peter agreed.

Credence considered this and nodded slightly. Newt set the pine wand back in its box. “Not this one, I think.”

Peter tossed it over his shoulder carelessly. “This one!”

The next was distinctly reddish in color, but upon being instructed to move it around, the wand left Credence’s hand of its own accord.

“Stingy, stingy…” Peter scolded as if to the wand. He tossed it, and offered Credence another. And then another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Eventually Newt sat upon the counter, his feet dangling gently to a tune in his head while Aiyana rested in one of the window seats. Peter never lost his energy; if anything, he grew more eager than ever to find the right wand for Credence.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to Newt, who perked up from his thoughts with a simple shake of his head.

“This is regular,” he said with a lift of his shoulder. “It took me three visits to find my wand. Thankfully I wasn’t of age. I would’ve missed the train to school, otherwise.”

“Why’d you get your wand early?” he wondered.

“I broke my mum’s and my brother was going off to school. Mr. Ollivander was kind enough to let me try some of his wands before he ultimately realized I was going to be a problem customer. I held every wand in the store.”

Credence’s countenance fell with a look toward the hundreds of wands around them. Aiyana laughed, then, drawing his attention from them. “Rest easy. I have no illusions that we might have your perfect wand. The wands here are first and foremost meant to be tools of practice. You need only one that is strong enough to be held by you, and one that you agree with.”

As if on cue, Peter set thirteen boxes on the counter. “One of these. It has to be one of these. These are our strongest wands.”

So Credence started down the line. The first two had no effect whatsoever in his hand, while the third splintered and burned like the very first. The next several all displayed various sparks, sounds, or made other boxes fly from the shelves. One of them dismantled a shelf entirely; creating a cascade of boxes, at which Peter merely shrugged. Credence’s hope of finding his own wand felt just as splintered and charred as he held the last wand.

“White ash,” Peter grinned. “If you can’t hold this one, I’ll be real impressed!”

Credence sighed and lifted it from the velvet lining. It did not combust, which was a good sign, but when nothing further happened, Credence thought it was another failure. He looked between Newt and Peter. “I thought you said I was supposed to feel something?”

“Credence…” Newt said. “Your hair is standing up.”

Frowning, Credence lifted a hand to feel his hair but Peter somehow procured a mirror from under the counter with a flourish. “Ta dah!”

He looked ridiculous, but they were not wrong. Like an electric pulse, each strand of his hair was reaching outward in time with his heartbeat. Aiyana stood from her seat. “I’ll call this progress. If the wand holds you as much as you hold it, then it’s a match, I’d say.”

“Agreed!” Peter sang. With a snap of his fingers, the disarray of boxes, wands, and velvets flew back into place as if they had never left.

“What is the core in this one?” Newt asked.

Aiyana’s chuckle drew his and Credence’s gaze to her. “A shaving from a serpent’s horn,” she declared, and nothing more apart from, “Credence, would you walk with me?”

As quickly as his heart soared, it froze in his chest. He could not very well say no after she granted him a wand. He nodded but peeked toward Newt, who had not moved from the countertop.

“Good. I’ll give you a moment,” Aiyana said, and her silks slithered around her as she left the room, leaving Credence to follow at his own pace.

He swallowed thickly, stepping toward Newt who consoled, “She is honest but she is not cruel. Consider the wand a peace offering. She trusts you enough to have one.”

Credence nodded but still hesitated. Newt surprised him with a smirk. “We’ll practice with it later. Go on.”

This small promise lifted Credence’s chin and quickened his step after the headmistress. She gave him minimal attention as she led the way to her office, occasionally touching students’ shoulders in passing and wishing hello to other teachers. At her office she held the door for him, saying, “Make yourself comfortable.”

A glance around the office yielded only plants. “Where?”

“By the fire, I think. It’s colder today.”

Credence found the fireplace she meant, as well as the two luxurious chairs on either side. A white cat with a black patch on its nose slept on the rug in between them, but its eyes opened as Credence approached. It never moved but watched him steadily, reminding him of the serpent—

 _“Merroow!”_ He startled as another cat leapt off the seat he had chosen. The black cat sat before the fire, licking its white paws while a third, red feline lounged atop the back of the other chair, watching the proceedings like a prince of his seat.

Aiyana smiled and sat beneath him, gesturing for Credence to do the same. “Don’t mind them. The dark one will be on your lap soon enough. She is very fond of that seat for some reason, regardless of who is sitting there first.”

Credence checked to be sure another cat was nowhere he might sit and settled on the white leather. The upholstery was buttery under his fingertips.

“You feel out of place,” Aiyana observed, breaking through his thoughts. “Is it because of me or because you grew up in a steel and brick city?”

His lips parted, his eyes darting between cats and flames before he answered, “Both.”

Aiyana’s expression softened. “Thank you for being honest about it.”

His hands settled in his lap with his wand box. “I’m not sure what you want to talk to me about—uh!”

Sure enough, the cat with black fur and white paws arced through the air, landing on his thighs. Credence moved his wand box in time for the animal to settle in the crease of his legs, one of her paws reaching out for her claws to stretch. Hesitantly, Credence moved his fingertips between her ears. The cat’s jaws stretched open, its fangs thin and sharp as its tongue curled out. She settled on his knee, purring loudly.

“Are you familiar with cats?” Aiyana asked.

He shook his head. “We weren’t allowed pets, but…Newt asked me to hold a nundu once.”

Aiyana was shocked to silence. “You’re kidding,” she uttered, deadpan. Credence peeked up at her with a shake of his head. “He has a nundu in that case?”

Credence realized he might have said too much. “Um—”

Aiyana lifted her hand. “It’s better I know no more about it. Speaking of cats, however, what do you know about the wampus?”

He felt the same stricken feeling in his throat again. Aiyana shook her head, “I must beg you to relax. So many students sneak out of their dorms, trying to make the statues move again. I am not bothered in the slightest; rather, I think you would do very well in the wampus house. Please hear me when I say that if I had total rule over this school, you would already be in class today. Your arms would be heavy with textbooks and House Wampus would be your home for as long as you needed it. We would be very proud to have you here.”

The prick of the cat’s claws in his trousers was nothing to him. Just yesterday he had been faced with rejection, but now…he tried to swallow but his throat was dry whereas his eyes were wet.

“Do you know anything about the wampus?” she asked again. He could only shake his head. “It is a very special creature, particularly here, where so many pukwudgies have named this place home. It is the only cat which can outrun a pukwudgie’s arrow. You might consider this…a balance between the two houses guarded by them, such as how the thunderbird is the only creature which cannot be hypnotized by a horned serpent.”

“Is that what happened to Newt?” Credence blurted.

Aiyana appeared contemplative. “No…I do not think so. I have only seen that creature twice, and yesterday was the second time. The first was when I became headmistress of this school.”

She fell silent in her memories, spurring Credence to ask further, “What happened?”

The fire danced across her eyes as she said, “I woke in the middle of the night. My family—my tribe’s native songs were thrumming in my head. I can’t explain it; I just knew I was needed in the riverbed. Only the serpent was there, and it did not say anything. Understand that I wasn’t much older than Newt, and I far was less knowledgeable than he is now. I was horrified, and completely out of control of my own body or mind. But an overwhelming calm silenced my fear. I could hear the trickle of the water and the whisper of bird feathers…I knew it was the serpent sharing its mind with me. It was only for a moment, but in this it told me it was an ally, and I never looked back. I never questioned it.”

They were quiet for some time, only the crackling of the fire and the feline purrs between them. Credence asked, “If…I am accepted into the wampus house…why is the core of my wand from a serpent?”

Aiyana’s long fingers fanned in the air. “A house is not all consuming of your personality. For instance, Queenie is just as adventurous as her sister, if not more so, but it was Porpentina who was sorted into the thunderbird house, not Queenie.

“The traits of House Wampus are strength and speed, but this a vague description to place on so many young people who have yet to grow into themselves. This could mean a strength of body, or quickness of mind; a strength of character, which could just as quickly turn into a fault. Visitors of our school have likened House Wampus with Gryffindor House at Hogwarts, both because the sigils are large cats and because the houses often feature athletic students who do not shy away from pride. But you are not proud. I think, like the wampus, you are incredibly adaptable and you’ve proven yourself nearly impossible to kill.”

She met Credence’s eyes, which held hers only so long before he quickly looked away. She said calmly, “I am not of a mind to think it is your fault your obscurus formed. Those who think such a thing are cruel and either ignorant or irreparably stupid. It is the greatest tragedy of this world that so many people are like this. To answer your question, the reason that wand accepts you—well, beyond the fact of how difficult it is to acquire wampus hairs—is that your mind is in a place where it is ready to learn. That wand is strong enough to temper your magic and the core will be able to read you better than any other wand could. At least, for now.”

She puzzled him by leaving one subject and moving so quickly to another. “How do you feel about going to Hogwarts?”

Credence blinked widely, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. Go on and say it,” she encouraged, oddly pushy yet kind.

Credence swallowed and admitted, “I’m not sure what the difference is between here and there. If I can’t go to school here…”

“Then what’s the point of crossing an ocean for another refusal,” Aiyana finished for him. “Do you know whose owl arrived this morning?”

Credence frowned slightly as he shook his head. “Albus Dumbledore. Newt is either very special or very determined to have gained direct correspondence with that man.”

Credence stared at her bluntly. “Are you a legilimens?”

She guffawed, giving her the sound and appearance of a woman much younger than her silver hair. “No. William caught the bird and read the envelope before it arrived for Newt.”

“Oh,” Credence breathed. “He doesn’t like Newt, does he?”

“He’s suspicious,” Aiyana shrugged with a huff. “He is suspicious of all things. I cannot deny that I am just as curious about Newt Scamander. It is no small thing: removing an obscurus from its host. In fact, it has never been done before.”

She watched Credence absorb this as well as his uneasy expression. “I am not telling you these things to unsettle you. You have the right to know as much as you can about the magical world and your place in it. It just so happens, that you are traveling with a man who has done something unprecedented in written history.”

“But does that mean…that it—it’s not gone?”

She gazed at him for a moment before answering. “I am not the one to answer. But if I was, then yes, I would say it is gone. Newt comes across as a pathologically shy man but he is remarkably immovable when it comes to certain things. Yes, your obscurus is gone.”

For the first time since she invited him here, Credence inhaled a deep breath. Something in the back of his mind surfaced, “Why did you ask Newt to come to the wand room? Why not Queenie or Tina?”

“I thought you would be more comfortable with Newt,” she answered simply.

*******

Newt gazed up at the cupola. Despite the coming snow and rain, the sun had set on a clear sky. He liked this room, with its space and natural lighting; only the headmistress’s office could equally compare to his sense of comfort. The tall French doors had been left open by a student returning for dinner or to their dormitory, making the air crisp and fragrant—

The squeeze of leather pricked his ear. He looked down at his case, where the faulty buckle was open. Puzzled, he folded it closed. Usually he would have heard it click open…

“Hey, Newt.”

His gaze lifted to where Jacob had entered through the French doors, but as he approached, Newt’s eyes flicked between him and the thunderbird, its gold leaf feathers glimmering in the moonlight. 

“Jacob, stop,” Newt ordered.

“What? Why?” Jacob wondered.

“Close the door, please.”

Puzzled, Jacob turned to shut the doors. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just use your—” His hand was on the knob right as it shut of its own accord. “—yeah, like that.”

He turned around only to hear every door and window in this room slam shut. Newt was staring at him, wand in hand. “Newt? What’s going on?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any change on you?” he asked, oddly calm for someone holding his wand offensively.

“Ugh…yeah. Maybe some nickels…” he admitted. “Newt…"

Newt’s wand suddenly lowered onto Jacob’s trousers. Jacob swallowed loudly. _“Newt_ …WOAH!”

His pocket wiggled energetically before he felt tiny claws prick his rear, and then his other pocket jangled as the niffler’s paws snatched his nickels and pennies. Jacob tried to turn and grab it but the creature climbed around and around his figure before finally leaping off to scurry up the thunderbird’s tail wings like a ladder. “Of all the places…” Newt cursed, setting down his case. _“Accio!”_

The niffler dodged behind the thunderbird and the spell rebounded off the wood. Newt’s eyes widened on the creature clawing at the gold leaf. “No! Stop!”

He ran behind the statue but the niffler abandoned the cause, landing with a _plop_ on the marble floor and rushing past the pukwudgie for the tail of the wampus.

 _“Accio!”_ He missed.

 _“Accio!”_ The spell bounced uselessly off the black wood as the niffler climbed and found the amethyst eyes but ducked behind an ear as Newt shot protective bubbles over the large stones. The niffler abandoned it and leapt for the balustrades above—

“Absolutely not,” Newt declared. He waved his hand the same time his wand moved, a translucent shield glinting as it grew along the balcony from ceiling to floor. “We haven’t got all night, you pilfering—

The niffler managed to cling to the second floor crowning until it fell onto the serpent, sliding around the horns before it landed belly-down on the moonstone larger than its entire body. Newt's eyes widened. “If you manage to get that stone out, I will have words, you pest! _Accio niffler!”_

The niffler flew like a projectile at Newt, who realized too late the power behind his spell.

The niffler landed against his sternum, crashing Newt backward to land hard on the stone floor. Though winded, Newt caught the niffler inside his coat, the wool providing a better grip than his bare hands on the oil-slick fur. Jacob pushed his case to slide over the floor to him, where Newt wrenched it open and just as quickly slammed it shut with the niffler inside.

“Uh, Newt.”

Newt took another moment to catch his breath. “Hahh…yes?” he asked raggedly, standing in the center of the floor with his case in hand. He blinked at Jacob and followed the man’s gaze upward…where the thunderbird, wampus, and serpent were leaning over him. The pukwudgie’s arrow was held high in the air, its eyes on him.

“How rare.”

Both he and Jacob reacted toward Aiyana emerging from the shadows of the doors leading to the great hall. “I understand now why your Albus Dumbledore is so close to you.”

Newt’s gaze darted between the guardians. “No, I was sorted into just one house at Hogwarts.”

She shook her head. “The houses do not limit your character, merely isolate the sharpest areas of your potential. I have seen but three students awaken each statue, but if this is the man you have become, I would so much like to hear why you were offered just one house when you were a boy.”

Newt’s lips pressed together, silent, until he replied, “I only needed one.”

Jacob’s smile slowly evaporated as he watched Newt disengage from this subject, receding into himself. He cleared his throat. “It’s been a long day. I think it’s time to call it a night. Since tomorrow’s our last day, an’all...we wanna make the most of it.”

She bowed her head in acquiescence and lifted her hand, removing Newt’s enchantments so they could leave to their room.

*******

Credence stood from the bed upon hearing the door open. His hair was damp from using the washroom, his wand box in hand. Newt observed this and set his case on the opposite bed. “Hello, Credence. Are you ready?”

He nodded eagerly only to pause as the case opened and Newt caught the niffler. He sighed raggedly and shoved the creature back in shoulder-deep. Standing erect, he rubbed his eyes and gestured for Credence to enter first while Jacob removed his coat, watching them. Once Credence was inside, Newt cast the veil over the opening and followed him in. Crossing through the caravan, Newt paused against the occumies flying around his head.

“Hello. Yes, yes, hello, mum’s here. Just a moment, I’ve got fresh roaches right here…”

Credence waited for Newt to feed them, but even afterward an occumy flew behind him to wrap comfortably around his neck. He gazed at Newt opening the gate into the forest habitat, but he hesitated upon viewing the hippogriffs emerging through the trees. “In there?”

Newt looked at him before understanding, “They won’t mind. Hippogriffs are noble creatures. All they demand is your respect. As long as they have that, you’re quite safe. I have three spells for you today.”

Credence passed through the gate and Newt shut it before patting the rust colored hippogriff who trotted over and was sharing twitters and squawks with the occumy. “Hello, Charlotte, excuse me,” he murmured, gently pushing her head aside.

“Charlotte?” Credence wondered.

“I don’t think it makes sense to live with someone whose name you don’t know,” Newt made by way of explanation. He changed the subject with, “We’ll be needing a teapot. When you say this spell, you can vaguely summon everything from the direction you point your wand. For our purposes let’s be specific. _Accio teapot.”_

Setting the box on the grass, Credence held his wand. It was both comfortable and foreign in his hand, but taking a deep breath, he uttered, _“Accio teapot.”_

Unlike using Newt’s wand, the response was immediate. The response was frightening. The teapot in the caravan blasted through the pots and pans hanging in front of it, creating a loud mess that Jacob barely dodged as he emerged to join them. Credence saw the copper pot soaring for him, and he had no idea how to stop it—

He flinched as Newt caught it, and then shook the pain from his hands. “Bravo. Now,” he held up a roach, desperately wriggling for freedom. The occumy perked up on his shoulder, its eyes steady. “I’m going to levitate this insect. We’ll have a bit of an obstacle, but she’ll be a good demonstration as well, though we’ll need to act swiftly.”

Withdrawing his own wand from his belt sheath, he uttered _Wingardium leviosa_ and said, “The spell is _engorgio_ …but think along the size of a bird.”

Credence was not sure what this meant but he remembered the New York pigeons as he pointed his wand at the roach, _“Engorgio.”_

The insect swelled tenfold as Newt sent it away from them. Credence understood why as the occumy flew from his shoulder, spiraling through the air and growing to the size it needed to swallow the insect.

 _“Reducio,”_ Newt said with his kettle ready as he led the occumy through the air.

Credence repeated this and watched the roach shrink and land inside Newt’s kettle. The occumy likewise lessened and landed within, eagerly devouring its treat. Newt held it between them so Credence could see. “Bravo,” he repeated softly.

They looked up at the sound of Jacob’s clapping. Newt set the pot on the ground as Jacob approached to lean on the railing. “What’s that feel like? Feels nice, huh?”

Credence nodded while Newt engaged with the graphorns, their desert sand meeting the grass and trees of the erumpent and hippogriff sanctuaries. “Go on,” Jacob encouraged, “Do some more.”

The occumy’s head lifted out of the teapot as he levitated it toward Newt, who accepted it and held Credence’s buttons on his palm. Jacob laughed and applauded, watching Credence summon objects and as buttons as large as tires and carriage wheels rolled across the ground.

While Credence got the hang of his wand, Jacob helped Newt with the nightly chores. He particularly liked feeding the mooncalves and brushing Dougal’s hair while Newt handled the particularly rambunctious inhabitants. Afterward, they met in the forest where Newt was checking on the albino hippogriff’s eye. Together they strolled through the trees toward the caravan.

“I like what you’re doin’ for Credence,” Jacob voiced. “I think that’s really good a’you.”

Newt shrugged as he cleaned the knife he’d used to cut more aloe strips. “It’s nothing more or less than what ought to be done.”

Jacob laughed as they passed Credence practicing, “Ah, I wouldn’t say that. He’s a good kid. No one’s actually explained how you all know him, though. I guess that part a’my memory just won’t wake up?”

“That’s probably for the best,” Newt disregarded, jogging up the stairs into the supply room. With a wave of his wand, kitchenware returned to their hooks and he set utensils back in their cups or drawers.

“Hmm,” Jacob nodded, but with a glance back at the young man in question. “Oh! Chief Aiyana said I could borrow the kitchen tomorrow! She said she wanted to taste somethin’ I made. What a’ya think of that?”

He nudged his elbow against the back of Newt’s ribs, but a ragged burst of sound came from Newt’s throat as he lurched against the counter, knocking over just as much as he picked up.

Credence looked over, his wand lowering at the sight of Jacob helping Newt to sit down. Charlotte flapped her wings restlessly beside him.

“Woah, Newt, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t’spook ya,” Jacob apologized. "I shoulda known better. I spook sometimes too, for no reason. After the war..." But he noticed how Newt flinched against the pressure on his side. “What’s happened to you? Lift your shirt up.”

“No-No, that won’t be necessary—” Newt refused but a quick yank revealed a nasty yellowing bruise on his side.

Jacob whistled. “That’s quite a somethin’.”

“It’s fine,” Newt tried to lower his shirt.

“That don’t look fine,” Jacob said dubiously. “Don’t you got any magic for that? When did this happen?”

“It’s just a bruise,” Newt said quietly, but then admitted, “In the subway…when I was trying to get Credence.”

 _“Oh,”_ Jacob sighed as he looked around for something to help him. Then he realized, “Wait—”

“Gellert Grindelwald gave me a good knocking, Jacob, that’s all. Credence is not to blame,” Newt finished quickly.

Jacob squinted as if he was trying to remember something, but he relinquished, “A'right. Is this cold? Yeah, here.” The slab of meat Newt kept for the graphorns on the counter was cold to the touch. “A good steak is good for a bruise like that.”

Newt gently rolled his eyes and held up his shirt for him to press the meat to his flesh. “I gotta say,” Jacob began conversationally, “this brings me back. Helping bruises and scrapes was regular during the war. Did you fight in the war?”

A smile curved Newt’s lips, but he didn’t mind telling Jacob again: “I worked mostly with dragons. Iron bellies. Eastern front.”

“Dragons,” Jacob repeated wistfully. “What’re they like?”

“Hot,” Newt replied bluntly. “Could you move that over a bit?”

Jacob held the meat for Newt to turn his other side toward him and pressed it back down. “Are they as terrifying and wonderful as the stories say?”

Newt’s body swayed with a laugh. “Yes, and more. Dragons are the fiercest of creatures… They are also the most misunderstood.”

Jacob laughed. “Everything is misunderstood until you get ahold of it. How big are they?”

Newt shifted his weight slightly. “It depends on the breed. Some dragons are as large as automobiles…others buses. Some might never stop growing if humans did not interfere.”

“Tell me about these iron bellies. I s’ppose they’re named for a reason?”

“Their scales are tougher than the finest metal. They’re bipedal, so they land and take off from their legs while their arms are their wings. They’re not particularly fast…but they are large. The largest dragons to still exist.”

“Wow,” Jacob said dreamily, his gaze far away as he imagined them. “How big, exactly?”

“Planes, easily,” Newt replied. “Mine were larger.”

“Hoo hoo,” Jacob laughed. “More, more, tell me more.”

Newt grinned. “Iron bellies are not black but their grey scales can darken or fade as they age. Many mistake them to be green for the moss that grows on them. They are heavy and can sleep for days at a time, you see. And their eyes are red. Deep, wine red… Dragon keepers don’t like the moss. It makes them slippery and even more difficult to catch and contain…but I loved the green ones. They look like something truly ancient; something that mingled with wizards of lore, but not necessarily as enemies. It is said that Merlin had a companion dragon, to which he could speak to and it would let him fly upon its back. Iron bellies are feared for their size and their fire, of course, but so many people dislike their red eyes. I always thought they were lovely. Their name is brutal and plain compared to how beautiful they are.”

Credence had come to sit on the stairs, listening as he leaned against the doorjamb. He liked the rhythm of Newt's voice.

“It’s warm,” Newt said.

Jacob had been staring off into space. “Oh, a'right.” But when he went to put the meat back on the counter, he saw that one side was turning brown. “Newt? Why does one side a’this look cooked—what is that?”

Newt jerked his shirt down. “What?”

 _“That._ On your back.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s a lot like a somethin’!” Jacob disagreed.

“Jacob? Are you in there?” Queenie’s voice called down. He and Newt looked up and then back at each other, at an impasse.

Jacob pursed his lips, unhappily ordering. “Look, it doesn’t have’ta be me, but whatever you got there is bigger than a ‘nothin’, and you oughta let someone take a look at it. Maybe that Billy guy. Yeah, doll, I’m coming up.”

He went up the ladder, leaving Newt alone in the caravan. Finding the usual quilts and pillows they slept on, Newt left to make his and Credence’s sleeping arrangement when he met the youth at the bottom of the stairs. “Yes?” he asked, blinking.

Credence shook his head, unsure what to say. Newt waited for him but ultimately said, “All right…” and left to put the bedclothes on the grass.

Credence went into the caravan and climbed up the ladder, but upon reaching the top, he heard Jacob and Queenie's voices. Lifting the veil with the top of his head, he peeked at the pair speaking in the room’s doorway.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Jacob scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s…uh…” he sighed, “I don’t wanna tell ya because it’s Newt’s business but you probably already read it in my mind.”

She giggled. “I try not to read everything. Then what’s the point of flirting?”

That cleaned the worry off of Jacob’s face. A goofy grin formed on his face. “I s’ppose you got me there. I gotta keep you guessing, after all.”

She laughed with a hand on his tie. “Or I can do it for you.”

She pulled him gently for their lips to meet. Jacob’s hands found her waist and one kiss turned into two, and three. The sound was oddly soft, yet wet. She slowly pulled away, her thumb tracing his bottom lip as she smiled. “G’night, honey.”

“Night, honey,” he blurted, his voice high pitched. She giggled again, and with a kiss to his nose, she left to return to her room.

Credence ducked back within the case, unsure how to process what he saw. A large part of him felt like he shouldn’t have seen anything; that he was intruding on an intimacy meant specifically for Queenie and Jacob…

But as his feet found the soil and the grass and eventually the edge of his quilt, Credence realized what he felt more than anything was curiosity. He realized he had never seen anyone kiss before. His eyes found Newt tucked within his own blankets, but he was already sound asleep.

Credence removed his shoes and folded himself within his own plush covers before his eyes fell on the white fabric on Newt’s backside. Credence had not been as close as Jacob to see what rested beneath the shirt, so with nothing more to think on, Credence let sleep wash over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My baby deserves some recognition okay ç_ç he works so hard.


	9. Scars / Good Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt seeks William's advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide on a name for this chapter, so have two~

“It’s the orange zest,” Jacob grinned, as Aiyana tasted the first batch of paczkis.

She chewed contemplatively and her grows lifted in esteem. “Impressive. If everything else is of the same quality I will look forward to visiting your bakery next time I’m in the city.”

“I look forward to havin’ ya!” he exclaimed happily. “Anyone else?”

The Goldsteins stepped forward for their own pastries. “What’d you do to the bakery to get Jacob here?” Tina could not help but ask.

Newt shrugged. “Just an anti-theft charm with a memory additive so people wouldn’t remember walking into a bakery without a baker; some autonomy for his devices and all of it synchronized with a clock to operate by his working hours.”

Tina guffawed. “Oh? Just that, huh?”

Aiyana smiled. “Keep him, Tina. He’s a handy one to have.”

Newt smiled bashfully. “I’m afraid I’m bound for England once we’re back in New York.”

“I know,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you need to be truly divided.”

“I’d like to see Hogwarts,” Jacob admitted. “If it’s anything like this place…”

“Yeah,” Queenie sighed.

“We gotta get back to work,” Tina reminded. “Mrs. Estitido can’t live forever with a memory charm, thinking her rent’s been paid. And I can’t get on Madame Picquery’s bad side again by asking for more vacation time.”

“You just leave Seraphina to me,” Aiyana interrupted. “I’ll invite her down for a couple weeks or so. I am sure she is just as eager for a respite. Therefore no one will notice you were gone. You’ll have to leave after she does, however, which will mean you won’t travel together.”

“That’s fine!” Tina piped, surprising the others. “You mean it, Chief?”

“I do,” Aiyana smiled.

“You…won’t tell her about Credence, will you?”

“Who?”

She winked at him, resulting in Credence looking down, and then back up, and ultimately just nodding.

She finished her paczki and dusted her fingers of sugar. “You have some hours before you leave. Be sure to finish anything you need to.”

Jacob caught Newt’s gaze, the latter holding it but for a moment before he looked away. This went unnoticed by all apart from Credence, who observed Newt pull open the topmost button of his shirt with an exhausted huff of air.

“Excuse me,” he uttered quietly, to no one in particular. Credence followed him out of the kitchens and through the corridor…but Newt did not go outside. He went to the wand room, where he said, “Peter?”

The pukwudgie stood from behind the counter. “Hiya, Newt! What do you need?”

Newt took a moment to collect himself. “I…I was wondering if William might be nearby?”

Peter grinned. “Sure! He’s just in the back—Hey Billy! Someone’s here to see you!”

A rough, _“EHH?”_ was heard as the figure himself appeared; small piles of wood shavings rested on his shoulders or stuck to his hair. “You. What do you want?”

“His name’s Newt,” Peter scolded. “Really, it’s not hard.”

“Shut your sink hole. I asked _you_ a question.”

Newt shyly said, “I have…something I would like your input on.”

“What is it?”

“A scar.”

“Not anywhere pubic, is it?”

Newt ducked his head to hide his laugh. “No. It’s on my back.”

“That side?” William jabbed the wand he was carving in the air. It was not a question.

“Yes,” Newt replied.

“Fine. Come back here. If you touch anything I’ll give you a new one.”

“Thank you,” Newt exclaimed. “Thank you, Peter.”

“It’s no problem! As long as I can play with that slippery guy you have in there,” Peter said wickedly.

“I won’t have a single thing from _that_ thing in here,” William barked with a nasty look at Newt’s case. “I can hear them skittering around in it. Ehg,” he grimaced.

Newt met Peter’s gaze with a silent apology, to which he simply shrugged. William’s workshop was down a brief flight of stairs in a rather dungeon or cellar looking room apart from the row of windows along the ceiling letting in bright light as well as dusty shadows. Under the windows was a row of plants, near which William told Newt to sit down. Shavings and sawdust softened his steps.

Newt craned his head around, absorbing everything as he set his case down—

“You! Quit hiding and come here. What do you want?” William ordered from the doorframe.

Peter rose onto his toes to see. “Hiya, Credence!”

“What do you want?” William repeated gruffly.

“I-I just…”

“It’s alright,” Newt said. “He and I will be traveling for some time. He might as well know.”

“It's my workshop!” William barked. “I’ll say who enters it.” He turned back to Credence. “Are you the one who broke my wands?”

Credence could only gape silently. His head lowered in affirmation.

“You took the ash wand?”

He nodded mutely.

“I’m not sad to see it go. Fine.”

He stood by the door and waited for Credence to rush in lest he spark William’s anger further. He came to stand next to Peter while Newt removed his suit jacket and waistcoat. His fingers were on his shirt buttons when William touched him and the buttons slid free on their own. He removed Newt’s shirt and turned the stool with him on it so his back was too the light, and to Credence.

Credence’s first thought was _red._

So much red that surely the skin was gone entirely and he was seeing slick muscle. But William’s thumbs pressing the shiny scar tissue corrected his thoughts. The scar on Newt’s back was a vicious slash from the top of his shoulder, arcing near his spine, and then back down toward his hip. Mostly it was a series of harsh gashes, like claws, which had dug across his body, but over his shoulder blade, tapering on his lower back was a plane of shining tissue that was fringed with a cratered texture like his skin had boiled.

Credence involuntarily stepped forward for a better look. From the heart of the wound were soft streaks; garnet veins that had healed thicker than before and were visible under the surface before they dove out of sight.

William touched different areas of his scar before he summoned, “Peter.”

Peter came to stand in front of Newt, placing a hand over his ribcage while William touched the same place on his backside. Credence did not know what was happening until Newt’s torso began to change. He did not glow but his insides became…translucent. Ribs and muscle faintly shielded the movement of his lungs and heart. For a long time they were both silent and focused on Newt until William removed his hand and Peter chimed, “It’s hot but it’s not actually cooking you, which is good. What did this to you?”

“A dragon,” William answered instead, lifting the lid on an icebox and giving the contents a solid crack with a chisel. “Never liked dragons.”

Newt looked back at him stuffing ice and various herbs into a cheesecloth sack. “There are dragons here?”

“Not anymore.”

Newt’s curiosity faded from his face. “Oh.”

“You’re either stupid or proud to carry that case after getting a scar like this.”

Newt’s features softened. “On the contrary, that’s why I carry it.”

“Hehh?” William challenged.

“To educate wizards instead of eliminating a species for no reason other than ignorance.”

William was silent. He tied the cloth shut and let it drop onto Newt’s back. “Proud, then. It’s just like a wizard to almost get himself torn apart and then think he has any right to meddle in things he’s got no place meddling in.”

Newt rocked against the weight but smiled to himself. “It wasn’t like that. I’ve been called many things, but I don’t think ‘proud’ has ever been one of them.”

“Mmph,” William made by way of answer. “Hold that.”

Newt reached across his chest to hold the top of the sack on his shoulder while the rest lay across his back. William shocked him by grabbing his hip with an iron grip. The sack fell to the floor to be picked up by Peter. “What about this?”

“That’s…manageable,” Newt gritted.

“Your range of movement is restricted.”

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“You run like a stunted goose.” William uttered dryly.

“It has its good days and bad,” Newt heaved a breath. “You said nothing pubic.”

The moss growing in place of eyebrows lifted. “Almost lost your hereditary bits, eh?”

Newt met him from the corner of his eye. “Just a good scratch.”

A wet sound came from William that might have been mirth. “On the table.”

Newt’s expression turned vacant as his eyes landed on the worktable.

“Pants off.”

Newt’s eyes widened with something akin to horror. “Are you aware that pants in England are underthings?”

William was moving materials out of the way with only a glare spared to him. “You shy?”

“Billy,” Peter scolded. “You can keep those on, Newt.”

William growled but said nothing. Credence pressed himself against the wall between a carving tool and a counter while Newt stood and unbuttoned his trousers. The view was…contradictory. Credence had yet only seen Newt fully clothed, and he was slim even in his layers, but now as he stood shirtless…the view was a different picture. He was more muscular than his lanky figure suggested, and the added contours made him seem taller.

Newt used magic to remove his boots quickly and Peter helped him onto the table to lie on his side. “If that’s bothersome,” Newt began as Peter held the poultice to his backside.

“I don’t mind,” Peter said sweetly. “You’re in good hands.”

Newt set his head down only to lift it once more upon feeling something soft under his head. He craned his neck to see Credence walking away from his folded suit jacket.

“Thank you, Credence.”

Credence peeked back at him but only nodded as he turned away to leave.

*******

Newt spent the majority of the day in William’s workshop, only appearing at dinner before they left. The farewell between the teachers and Goldsteins was a long affair on the bridge, ending with enthusiastic handshakes with Jacob and an embrace with Aiyana. Credence and Newt stood a distance away, the latter distractedly looking at the sky or down into the valley.

“Oh, this is yours,” Newt said. He withdrew Credence’s jacket from what was likely another bottomless pocket within his coat. Newt shook it out, gave his wand a wave, and the garment straightened and shined like a fresh pressed suit jacket. Then sliding the wand back into its sheath, Newt held it open for him. Credence blinked and realized he was meant to put his arms through it. Removing his midnight blue coat, he rotated and felt Newt adjust as needed, placing the black garment over his shoulders. His fingers slid over the fabric, the fibers tingling over Credence’s shoulders.

Aiyana approached them. “I do hope William was not too rough with you.”

Newt laughed. “He was thorough.”

Her own shoulders lifted in a laugh and she extended her hand. “It was a pleasure, to have you with us. Send Albus Dumbledore my regards.”

His eyes were bright as he gently shook her hand. “I will.”

“As a matter of fact,” she said, going to the edge of the bridge where the gold and white owl had landed. “I might send them myself. Credence.”

He turned to her and found her hand offered to him. He hesitated but lightly placed his hand within hers. His gaze jerked up as she said, “The founder of our school was raised in darkness, as you were. She ran from it and found family. I hope wherever you run, it will be toward something and not from it.”

Her hand slid against his, leaving him speechless.

Given the smell of ice in the air, their time on deck of the airship was limited. They spent the evening in Newt’s case, where he and Queenie made a succulent dinner and Tina taught them a card game with a deck from the bedside table of their lodgings. The cards participated themselves, resulting in rather limited player choice but much by way of hilarity and merriment. More than once Credence looked around him as if from inside a glass cage, the sound of Queenie’s laughter muffled or Tina and Newt’s banter silenced.

But not long after, Newt’s head would turn, and Credence would hear, “All right?”

He would blink and murmur, “Yes.”

Jacob sat next to him eventually, showing him his cards for discussion, and the cage disappeared.

*******

Credence jerked awake to the sound of a scream. Confused as one fresh from sleep would be, he saw Newt’s empty bedclothes and sought the man himself. He found him near the niffler’s burrow and the demiguise’s nest…except the silver creature was flashing in and out of visibility. It was thrashing against Newt, every thrust of its arm as good as a metal blow.

“Dougal, please,” Newt soothed. “You’re stronger than I am. Calm down. Hear me, it’s just a dream…it’s just a dream…”

The demiguise suddenly launched himself against Newt, pushing him back several steps but Newt held him close, stroking his fur. “You’re all right, shhh…you’re all right. I’m here. I’m here now.”

The demiguise burrowed against Newt’s neck as he came back to the forest. “I’m sorry to have woken you in such a way.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Credence asked, hearing Dougal whimper.

“He suffers from nightmares, poor fellow,” Newt answered, walking past him. “Alas, some scars are not so visible.” To Dougal he murmured, “Let’s go for a walk, darling. You’ll be fine in a jiffy.”

Credence’s palm was planted to push himself up before he thought a moment whether he should follow. He chose to stand, following some distance behind as he asked, “What did William say? About yours?”

Newt rotated slightly to see him and then kept walking, slowly for Credence to join him. “Nothing I’ve not heard before. There’s nothing to be done.”

Credence’s lips parted. “Nothing? But… What does that mean?”

“It means periodically I will ask you to practice the cold spell on my back instead of your morning tea,” Newt said with a flash of a smile. “William gave me more relief than any wizard physicians have.”

Credence nodded and said, “Is what Peter said what it feels like? Like…you’re being cooked?”

Newt nodded his head to the side in thought. “Not exactly. Cooking connotes a measured heat. I can feel every mark, but in different degrees and in different places at different times. To be quite frank, it feels like the flames never left my skin. It’s as if they’re moving over me constantly. Some days it is just a warmth, other days it sears along the edges.”

He paused a moment and then added, “Jacob caught me at a time when the pain was throughout.”

“That sounds awful,” Credence could not help but say. “If it hurts, you don’t have to teach me.”

Newt shook his head. “I would never refuse you. I like seeing your progress. As Peter said, it is not damaging my organs. The fatigue is mental only.”

He stroked Dougal’s head, nuzzling him gently as they passed among hippogriffs either sleeping or lifting their heads at them. Credence asked, “Why does he have nightmares?”

Newt tucked the dangling silver tail under his fingers as he answered, “A demiguise’s foresight is based on probability; knowing the most likely immediate future. This, along with their invisibility, makes them incredibly difficult to catch…but it still happens. Their fur is nearly priceless, so rare are the invisibility cloaks made from them. I imagine seeing horrible things and living a life of evasion can become more than cumbersome.”

Credence watched him stroke the silver head again; the center of his chest aching at the careful tenderness in which Newt encompassed the creature. “He’ll be fine soon enough. He’ll know he is safe.”

Suddenly he asked, “Are you comfortable, Credence? Here. With me, I mean. Or—In this case?”

Credence could not reply quickly under the scrutiny of Newt’s bright stare. “I…I guess so. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m sure any number of reasons,” Newt said offhandedly. “Tina goes out of her way to make you comfortable so…you have options. I don’t want you to think you’re obligated to sleep in here with me.”

Credence’s lips parted. “Do you not want me to…?”

“No—I mean, yes. Or.” Newt paused to gather the right words. “I am happy to have you here…I only wonder if you are. Happy, that is.”

“I…I’m not unhappy,” Credence ventured but his chin lowered. “I…I don’t know... I don’t know.”

Newt nodded several times. “You needn’t answer now. I am sorry I made you uncomfortable. I am even more sorry about the timing. It won’t be long before we arrive to New York.”

He was not wrong, as Jacob soon came down the ladder to bring them up. Newt and Jacob first went to his bakery to check on the enchantments while Tina and Queenie went to MACUSA for work. Credence was left to choose how he spent the day, but not before Newt discovered a ship was leaving for England the following morning. With only hours left in America, he decided to visit LAMMS one more time.

*******

“Hi, Credence,” Modesty said upon opening her door. The room smelled of cinnamon, and she wordlessly invited him in so she could return to her oatmeal.

“I thought you said the nurses eat with you,” he remembered, sitting adjacent to her.

“They do,” she said around a mouthful, “but today someone important is leaving. So they’re busy with him.”

“Oh,” Credence nodded. She offered him a wedge of orange, but as he accepted it, his eyes locked onto her hand.

“Where are your—” he stopped. “Never mind.”

But her blue eyes followed his to her hand, where there were no longer scars. She gazed dreamily at her palm…for so long Credence was sure she would remember. Instead she eventually blinked up at him and asked, “Have you gotten better at cooking?”

“Uh…heh,” he gave a weak attempt at a laugh. “No, I haven’t.”

“I told you to wear gloves,” she scolded mildly.

“I know,” he confirmed. “Modesty, I…I’m leaving for a while.”

She set her spoon down. “Where’re ya goin’?”

He took a deep breath, and it came more easily than he expected. “I’m going to school.”

“School?” she echoed, and then thought for a long moment. “I haven’t been to school…have I?”

He hesitated, “No, we—you were home schooled.”

“Sounds boring. Are you excited for it?”

He fiddled with the orange slice between his fingers. “I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“I’m behind,” he admitted. “All the other students have finished already.”

“Are you worried the younger kids will bully you?” she wondered.

“Maybe,” he answered.

“But if you’re older, doesn’t that mean you’re in charge?”

He fell contemplatively quiet. “Yes, but…I think it’s the teachers who won’t like me.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t been accepted. It’s more of an…entrance interview I’m going to.”

She listened calmly and then considered, “Don’t you wanna be accepted?” All he could do was nod desperately. “Then don’t worry. I like you. I’m sure they will too.”

As if he had been holding his breath, Credence exhaled as she returned to her spoon, and he ate the orange wedge.

*******

Tina was the last to arrive at the apartment; Queenie was making dinner while she and Newt listened to a story Jacob was telling, but she stopped everything with, “Did you know they found the real Graves?”

“Who?” Jacob asked whereas Newt stood with Queenie.

“Graves?” Queenie sighed. “You mean…”

“Percival Graves is an auror who works for MACUSA,” Newt explained for Jacob. “However Gellert Grindelwald has been wearing his face for some time. Grindelwald is a terrorist, determined to tear the veil between muggle and magical worlds apart, and not for the betterment of muggles, let me tell you.”

“Sheesh,” Jacob exclaimed. “But this Graves fella is alright?”

“Yeah! He was alive, but barely. They found him locked in a cabinet in his own office while we were gone. He’s been at the hospital all this time and he’s being discharged today!”

Newt frowned. “How long was Grindelwald acting on his behalf?”

Tina looked to Queenie for input and shrugged. “Months. There’s no way of knowing, for sure. The way I heard it, he was like a forgotten goldfish.”

“That’s awful,” Queenie exclaimed.

“Less than four days seems hardly enough time to recover from malnourishment,” Newt commented.

Tina set her hands on the back of a chair. “Yeah, well, that’s Graves for you. You may as well have met him even if he wasn’t the real Graves. He’s stubborn and devoted to his job. I can’t blame him for wanting out so early, after learning what happened while he was away. Where’s Credence?”

“He hasn’t come back yet,” Queenie answered.

Tina crossed her arms and went to the windows. She sighed audibly, “I wish he wouldn’t stay out so late.”

“He’s quite safe,” Newt assured.

She looked at him. “How do you know?”

“I just do,” he answered enigmatically.

*******

Credence exited the phone booth and just as quickly stepped back in it. Night had fallen but the voice he heard was as clear as day.

“This is ridiculous. I’d rather not dwell on it, Madame President. I want to get to the bottom of how it happened.”

“As do we,” Madame Picquery said. “We’re not sure how long _you’ve_ been gone, Mr. Graves, but I would like to know how much of MACUSA’s intelligence Grindelwald breached.”

“I don’t remember,” Graves answered angrily. Credence shivered. That soft, husky voice was the same. “It was more than a day, I can tell you that, which means he could have had anything he wanted. What I’m more interested in is why he stayed for so long.”

“Explain,” Picquery piqued with interest.

Credence could hear their voices fading as they moved away from the entrance of the hospital. “I’ve been told he was working in my stead? If he wanted something simple, he would have gotten it and left. It sounds as if he...difficulty…something more…needed…”

When their voices were finally gone, Credence burst from the box, stumbling over the threshold and never quite regaining his balance as he turned the corner onto a main road and faced a small group of men rushing to get home. They crashed into him, bellowing curses and outright shoving him out of the way. Credence landed against the half-open door of what smelled like an illegal pub; he fell right through it and tried to catch himself but someone was leaving while he was entering. He was knocked aside once more, landing painfully on his stomach, and right on his wand in his breast pocket.

The pub exploded.

The threshold collapsed along with much of the ceiling it had been holding up. Every sheet or container of glass shattered like a shockwave passed through it, causing mayhem to the patrons. They ran for the exit, kicking Credence in their haste but finding that caved in, rushed out of the windows. Credence crawled out of the way but every hit to his face or neck or torso caused another burst of magic from his pocket.

Tables overturned and splintered. 

The bar itself cracked in half.

Floorboards peeled up while the rafters crashed overhead to land at odd angles.

A pipe burst, blowing off frames from a wall.

Credence managed to get behind the bar, but the smell was pungent with alcohol and glass pressed into his hands. All he could do was weather the chaos, his arms over his head until all was silent.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

His hands were bleeding, but he wept as much for them as for something else. He was used to being denied the use of his hands, but being reacquainted with this lack of control was debilitating. The front of his clothes was torn apart and felt singed.

 _What am I going to do?_ He tried to wipe facial fluids with his sleeve but he might as well let his tears and more fall—

“Credence!”

He froze. His head lifted slowly until he heard loudly, clearly: “Credence!”

His gasp was loud in his throat. Glass crunched around him. “Credence!”

 _“Newt?”_ he rasped, and coughed.

Quick steps rushed lightly over the floor, and then there he was, case in hand and his hair windblown from running. He looked Credence over, and the youth’s head lowered onto his knees, sure he was finished; sure Newt had lied for his benefit. How could he enjoy teaching someone who blew things up more often than—

He jerked against Newt reaching for his wrists. “Easy, now,” he soothed. “I just want to see how it is. Glass in the hands is a nasty thing to clean. Oh…you’ve taken a good knocking…”

Credence blinked as Newt ever so lightly touched his face, examining the bruises forming and gently lifting his chin. “Are you able to stand?” he asked.

Credence stared at him. Why was he here? He’d just demolished a business, why…?

Credence gaped at the coat Newt removed and placed around his shoulders. “I suppose it’s a good thing Queenie took such liberties with your wardrobe. We may yet get these patched up in no time—sorry?”

The air was thick and dry in Credence’s throat, but he repeated and quickly sobbed, “I need help... _Please..._ Help me. Please! I need help!”

He trembled as an arm crossed over his belly, but Newt handled him as if he weighed almost nothing. Pulling Credence against him, Newt hugged him tenderly, his other arm across Credence’s shoulder blades. He felt himself placed in the bend of Newt’s neck and shoulder as the man purred, “Of course, I’m here. I’m here. Not to worry. I’ve got you now. Of course I’ll help you. Rest now. I’ve got you.”

Credence sobbed with abandon until he felt the rustle of fabric and warmth around him. Tina was on his other side with Jacob; her head leaned on his shoulder while Jacob stroked his head. Queenie hugged him from behind, the five of them sitting there until he recovered.

Queenie took it upon her self and a handkerchief to clean Credence’s face while Tina said to Newt, “We need to get outa here before the aurors arrive. We can’t just repair this place, there are people to obliviate.”

“That’s your specialty,” Newt said, “though this may delay the president’s leaving for Ilvermorny so soon.”

Tina sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he flashed a grin. “We’ll see you when we see you. Hogwarts isn’t going anywhere. Credence, let’s take a good look at those hands.”

He grasped Credence's arm and with a _pop_ in the air, they apparated into the Goldsteins’ apartment, quickly followed by Queenie and Jacob.

Newt set his case on the couch. “Could one of you bring down some food for Credence? This may take some time.”

“Sure,” Queenie chimed, putting together a plate.

Newt took a hold of Credence’s forearm to guide him down into the case. “Steady, now.”

Outside of the caravan, Newt set down a stool for him to sit while he gathered items in a large mortar. Credence heard the splash of water before Newt ground things together and poured them into a spray bottle. He arrived back to Credence with the explanation, “This will numb the pain. Take one of those for good measure.”

Credence accepted the pill gingerly and then the cup of water while Newt sprayed his hands. Almost immediately, he felt his aches stop throbbing. He watched Newt set down an upturned bucket so he could sit and take his time removing shards of glass. “Tell me if I hurt you, all right?”

Credence nodded but hummed weakly as Newt slid a hooked knife through his sleeves and opened the fabrics to reveal his entire forearm. Quite a few garnet and brown scars slashed over the sensitive skin, but Newt paid them no attention as he set Credence’s hand on his knee and began plucking bits of glass with tweezers.

“This isn’t so bad,” he assured, giving the palm another spray to clean the blood off. “It looks worse than it is.”

“How did you find me?” Credence blurted. Newt looked up at him. “How did you know?”

“Ah…” Newt puzzled him by looking embarrassed. “That…I should have asked your permission first…”

He reached between them and dipped into Credence’s waistcoat pocket. Out of it he lifted a sparkling golden feather. Credence had seen something similar when Newt was cleaning out the case but he watched Newt unbutton his shirt and yank out a thin gold chain. On it was tied something small and shining that he could not see, but Newt held up another golden feather he had tied to the chain. Only, he held the feathers together and revealed that Credence’s was the base, and Newt’s was the pointed end.

“Thunderbirds are able to sense danger, you see,” Newt explained. “I must confess it was only a hunch at first, but this bugger gave a nasty shock only moments ago and the gold hairs turned blue. A little bit of magic brought me to its other half: you.”

He doubled over Credence’s other hand, giving it a spray periodically as he worked. Eventually Newt asked, “Are you angry with me?”

He had succeeded in bewildering Credence. “No—what—why are you asking that? I’m the one…why don’t you hate me?”

Newt could only gaze up at him, blinking with his own perplexity. “Why can’t I not? You seem so sure I should.”

“Because I only destroy things,” he pushed out.

Newt’s head tilted to the side as another smile curved his lips. He returned to the hand on his knee. “That’s not true.”

He focused on a particularly stuck piece, inducing Credence to say, “You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t need to,” Newt replied quickly. “I know what a lost fight looks like and, well…” he peeked up at him. “You look like you lost. I know what you’re capable of. If you had won, things would be immensely different. There now.”

He set the tweezers down and started cleaning Credence’s palms. Holding his hand, Newt’s thumbs carefully pressed into his flesh, searching for more pieces before he unscrewed the lid of a tin containing a cream that smelled of mint. Just as attentively, he brushed the medicine over his lacerations, and Credence could feel his skin stitching back together. Before his eyes, his skin mended without so much as a scar…but as Newt bent his fingers back, flexing his hands to be sure the skin mended with elasticity, the contrast between such care versus the harsh scars everywhere else made Credence blurt, “Why did my ma hate me?”

In terms of bewilderment, he had returned the sentiment tenfold. Newt sat very still, and for such a length of time that he did not expect Newt to answer. When he did look up, Credence turned away. He felt his hand pivot over to be caught against Newt’s own palm, their hands settling on Newt’s knee as he said, “Because you’re beautiful.”

Credence blinked, not believing his ears. He turned back to find Newt’s gaze soft. “And when people feel ugly they develop the disillusion that by destroying beautiful things, they will feel better.”

Newt pressed his lips together, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Obviously, they’re wrong.”

Queenie arrived, then, with two plates of dinner, steaming hot as she and Jacob sat on the steps of the caravan. Newt stood so he could apply cream to Credence’s facial scrapes while he ate. He realized he was ravenous.

“How’re ya doin’, honey?” she asked, stacking her chin on her hands, elbows, and knees.

“You won’t even know it happened, by morning,” Newt answered for him.

“Would you mind tellin’ us what happened?” Jacob asked. “After you eat, I mean. Don’t wanna lose your appetite so quickly after you found it.”

Credence finished chewing and swallowed his potatoes to reveal, “I visited my sister. But outside of the hospital…I heard Mr. Graves’ voice. I thought he was actually…”

“Oh yeah,” Queenie explained, “Teenie came home and said they found the real Mr. Graves in his office. Apparently the Grindelwald fella just locked him up like bad cheese and he was leaving the hospital tonight. I guess it was a shock, huh? Is that why your magic went haywire? Jeez, those no-majs didn’t help, knockin’ and kickin’ into’ya like that—”

“Queenie,” Newt gently reminded.

She bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m glad you’re safe.”

"Yeah, me too," Jacob seconded.

Credence chewed slowly, pondering until Queenie giggled. “Keep eating, honey,” she grinned. “There’s more where that came from.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too soon for nudity? Nah.
> 
> I feel like this chapter was a bit rushed but it's sure nice and long *_* Let’s go to Hogwarts already. I love your comments! Thanks for reading <3


	10. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Credence arrive in London.

“Your sister.”

Credence turned his head from where he had been staring at the phosphorescent fish and squid swimming in the ocean overhead, unable to sleep. Newt reiterated, “How is she?”

Credence thought about it. “She’s good… She doesn’t remember me like…like what I was. I’m just someone who visits her.”

“Do you want her to remember?”

“No,” he answered, but then gave it more consideration. “Yes, but…I’m afraid remembering me as her brother will…”

Newt pressed his lips together. “I understand. She seems content?”

He nodded, “I think so. She likes her nurses. You…you’re not mad I went to see her?”

Newt gave a groggy smile. “I would have done the same. I cannot fault you for it.” Newt’s eyes flicked up to where Pickett was moving in his hair. “Is he putting more flowers in my hair?”

Credence shook his head as he watched the green leaves bob slightly. “He’s sleeping...I think.”

“Good. We can’t draw too much attention before we are on the ship.” He sat up and cast his bedclothes to fold themselves. “There’s still time until we leave.”

Credence tried to let the glowing creatures lull him back to sleep but when this proved futile he withdrew his own wand and said the words Newt had to pile his bedclothes. The futon and quilt folded smoothly but he winced at the spark against his hand.

“Newt.” The man’s head turned from where he was attending a hippogriff and lowered onto the wand. “It’s cracked.”

Newt took the wand from him and held it at eye level to peer down the length. “So it is…nothing to worry yourself about. This could have happened during a collision last night, not necessarily that your magic has already worn out the core. I can make a small repair to prevent it from worsening but Mr. Ollivander, I’m sure, will make quick work of this.”

Credence sat in the caravan while Newt quickly wrapped a paper mache strip of newspaper around the wand with an ingredient Credence had never seen before. Newt worked quickly as the additive made the paper harden quickly, then he tapped the wand gently against the counter. It rang like porcelain.

Newt handed the wand back to Credence. “At most, this will stop it from injuring you—”

“Hey, Newt.” They both looked up to where Jacob was peering into the case. They waited for him to climb down and say, “I was thinkin’. I should stay with my bakery for a while. I’m still finding the grooves of things, you know, and I think Queenie will be able to do the enchantments when she and Tina are ready to leave. And, uh, I mean they can take care a’themselves. I know that, sure, but they ain’t never been to London, but I have so I’d like to hang back and go with them if that’s a’right.”

Newt processed this and commented, “Then I ought to remove the enchantments. Your bakery is set up to operate with minimal human interference. There will be quite a mess otherwise.” He looked to Credence. “We need to leave now, to make it in time.”

Credence lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m ready.”

Jacob laughed and gave his shoulder a pat. “Must be nice, traveling light.”

“I don’t have anything.”

Jacob’s laugh dwindled into a clearing of his throat. “We’ll keep working on the humor thing. I’ll be above.”

He climbed out as Newt quickly went to do his morning chores around the habitats. Credence was putting on his shoes as Newt returned and let Pickett climb off his arm into his coat pocket before he shrugged into it. Queenie joined them on her way to work, standing with Credence while Newt removed his enchantments with just a swirl of his wand. Newt went to the doors to reinstate the antitheft charm with the comment: “I’ll leave this here. Yours will be the most secure bakery in New York.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jacob smiled as he donned his apron. “So my day starts right about now. I don’t mean t’be rude, but…”

“It’s no trouble, honey,” Queenie assured. “I’ll walk Newt and Credence to their ship. Make it a great day.”

“Bake it a great day,” he said after she kissed him. She giggled as he glanced at Credence. “That’s a pun. Get it?”

Newt grimaced slightly. “Icing better.”

“Ha!” Jacob cried with glee. “Icing. I seen. Yeah!”

Newt laughed despite himself and held the door for Credence and Queenie. “We best leave before this turns ridiculous.”

The bell chimed on the door as it closed against the winter chill. “We might be able to catch Teenie, if you wanna,” Queenie offered. “The aurors should be finishin’ up right about now.”

Newt looked at Credence who nodded. “She’s been working all night. We ought to.”

Queenie bobbed on her heels and with a simple touch, apparated them to the next block over from the bar. Queenie laced her fingers around Newt’s elbow as they walked before her steps slowed and she quickly pushed them into the shadows of a storefront. Credence looked between Newt and Queenie to understand what was happening but Newt merely let himself be pushed behind Queenie with a curious expression on his face.

Queenie looked around the corner, cursing under her breath, “Rats, I didn’t think this would be such a big deal to have them here.”

“Who?” Credence whispered as Newt gently pushed passed him to look over Queenie’s shoulder.

“Madame President,” Newt observed, “and…”

Credence paled, as he knew with whom Madame Picquery had last traveled. He peeked around Newt and saw Percival Graves standing with the president, Tina, and other aurors as the last of the brick and glass was set in place by magic. Even though he was without his pressed black overcoat and his face was now adorned by trimmed silver and pepper facial hair, the man’s profile was unmistakable.

“He’s lost weight,” Newt said, more to himself. “Too much. He must care about his work a great deal to be here.”

Queenie sighed. “Yeah, that’s Graves. As unexciting as his name. Well…except for when he wasn’t Graves.” She turned her head suddenly to look at Credence. “Are you okay, honey?”

Credence’s chin was down and his expression dark. “How…how can you tell? How do you know they’re different…?”

“That’s a good question,” Queenie sparked, now meeting Newt’s eyes. “You figured it out, didn’t you? You tried to ask Gnarlack about it, and you were the one who captured and revealed him in the station.”

Credence silently looked at Newt with fresh eyes. From what he remembered in the station, he could not understand anyone _beating_ Graves—or Grindelwald—let alone _capturing_ him, but…then again, Credence had been in a coin purse for much of what happened.

Newt seemed rather reluctant to answer. “Well…he wasn’t exactly eager to hide his opinions. Any chance he had to talk about his agenda, he would, so it became quite obvious. And now, see, they are entirely different.”

They all looked at Percival and the president leaving the block. Newt narrated, “It’s in his manner of walking. His stride is…his shoulders are heavy but his feet are light. Quiet. Graves walks like he has come back from war. Grindelwald strides like he is going to one, announcing himself. In other words, Grindelwald is proud. Percival Graves is not.”

“Huh,” Queenie hummed contemplatively, and then she whistled like a bird. Tina stopped on the asphalt and peered around until she found them. Glancing back at the other aurors apparating back to work or home, she tried to casually meet them.

“What are you doing back here?”

“Their ship is about to leave,” Queenie reminded.

Exhausted, Tina looked between them and sighed at the sky. “It’s morning already? Is Jacob in there?”

Newt looked at his case whereas Queenie answered, “No, he’s coming with us later.”

She sighed again, nodding before she turned to Newt. “How are you getting past customs?”

Newt fished in his pocket and procured two tickets proudly. “I paid and everything.”

Tina smiled with a laugh before more worriedly asked, “And a passport?”

“Yes, I have one.”

“I’m talking about Credence,” she urged.

“He has one.”

Her eyes narrowed. “No he doesn’t. It takes months to get a passport. Newt—”

“Dumbledore sent me a special passport just for him,” Newt appeased. “Everything will be fine.”

“A special one?” Tina doubted.

“He made it himself,” Newt reassured but Tina’s fears looked far from appeased.

She stared at him while his eyes darted over her features before she finally relented. She surprised him by stepping forward and hugging him. “Stay safe. And look after each other.” She smiled at Credence and brushed her hand over his coat front before releasing Newt. “Good luck with your manuscript.”

“Thank you,” Newt said before Queenie hugged him as well and then moved past him to fix Credence’s hair.

“I hear London’s fabulous,” she grinned. “See you soon!”

He could only nod, and then he and Newt were walking alone. As they drew near the port and heard the hubbub of travelers, Newt paused to hand Credence an envelope. The paper—was this paper?—was somewhat crunchy as well as stained and warped from traveling with an owl. On it was a curvaceous script in green ink: _Use sparingly._

“Not here,” Newt’s hand covered his when he tried to pull out the contents. “Take it out when the customs officer asks for it. Let him open it.”

They queued behind travelers until a man close to the ramp leading up to the ship waved Newt over. “You there. Y’ready?”

“We’re traveling together,” Newt gestured to Credence.

“Yeah, sure, the both a’ya.”

They rounded the table and Newt set his case on the surface. “Only one luggage?” the man asked.

Credence frowned as Newt touched something on the lock of his case. “Yes. We don’t need much.”

The customs officer peered at Newt’s case with skepticism but opened it and…Credence’s lips parted at the sight of Newt’s folded shirts, his own velvet waistcoats, and the striped scarves. The officer closed it back up and ordered, “Passports and tickets?”

“Yes, of course,” Newt said, accepting Credence’s passport and placing it under the pile of tickets. The officer looked them over while Credence briefly met Newt’s gaze as he swayed on his feet.

“British? How have you liked New York?”

“It was very exciting,” Newt smiled.

The officer slid the ticket under the pile. “Mr., uh, Goldstein. First time leaving the country?”

Credence blinked vacantly and then realized, “Yes. It is.”

“What’s takin’ ya away to England?”

He paused. “School.”

“And holiday,” Newt provided. “His cousins will be joining us later.”

“School? Not like we got a few a’those here—”

He opened Credence’s passport.

The man stared vacantly for a long second before he reeled like he had seen a camera flash. Newt quickly took back their tickets and passports with a, “Thank you very much,” and guided Credence onto the ramp.

“What was—” he tried to ask.

“Wait,” Newt hushed, handing the tickets to the man at the end of the ramp. They passed under the thick iron band of the doorway into the ship and Newt explained, “It’s a memory mirror. Anyone who looks at it becomes dazed and forgets the last minute or so prior to their looking at it.” He handed the seemingly harmless passport back to him. “Best keep it in the envelope just in case it doesn’t fall open.”

A small smile relaxed Credence’s mouth as he closed the envelope around it and pocketed it alongside his wand. “Why did you change my name?”

“I should have asked you, I’m sorry,” Newt apologized. “After my meeting with Ilvermorny’s headmistress, I understood that the surname ‘Barebone’ held too much immediate history to be used in New York. Of course you can use it anywhere else, it was just for the ticket—”

“No, I…I like it,” Credence interrupted as they stopped in a sunlit corridor with warm wooden floors.

The sunlight sparked off of Newt’s hair and eyes. Credence realized Newt had quite a few freckles faintly embedded in his skin. “Good. I’m glad. This is our room.”

The brass plaque on the door read _207_ , and inside was a modest two bed suite with a washroom and a window looking out over the sea. The walls were paneled apart from the upper half being decorated with a blue paisley wallpaper. Newt stood by the door while Credence wandered a lap around the room, before meeting him once more at the door.

“What now?” He did not need to ask whether Newt was going to leave his case in the room or not.

Newt considered that. “It’s cold, but I quite like being on deck, watching the ship leave the city.”

Credence nodded. “Okay.”

Newt nodded too. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Credence said with more confidence. Newt smiled and held the door for him, shutting it on the room they had barely touched.

*******

That night, Credence left the washroom to startle at the head popping out of the luggage. “Sorry,” Newt apologized. “Just, em…when you have a moment. I’d like to show you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, setting his towel on one of the beds.

Newt’s hair was still damp from his own washing. “Just…something you might use or not.” He ducked back into the case with Pickett on his shoulder, leaving Credence to follow at his own pace.

Climbing down, Credence gently pushed the captive bubble that was the niffler out of his way before he found something different in the case. To the left of the hippogriff forest and opposite Newt’s garden was a large tent, its flaps tied open to reveal a bedroom and even a grate with harmless blue flames crawling over what looked like bits of broken glass. Despite the blue warmth, the tent glowed with the same golden light that filled most of the habitats. English ivy cascaded from a plant stand in the corner with so much foliage that most of it had been lifted to hang from the peak of the tent like a green chandelier. The futon on the floor that Newt was arranging looked soft and inviting.

“It’s…it’s not much,” Newt said upon seeing him. “But I wanted you to…have a space of your own. Mind, you will have the occasional visitors.”

He scooped up a nundu cub that was inspecting the softness of the bed and tossed her back outside. “But…I thought you might find the books useful. They are from my own school days. Ignore my annotations. I was quite bored in class.”

Curious, Credence picked one up between the potted plants acting as bookends and found, not so much annotations, but drawings; clean as well as messy sketches done in ink and pencil of various colors.

“You can decorate however you like,” Newt rushed. “I just thought…plants clean the air and…they’re enchanted to absorb humidity…when you needn’t water them, why wouldn’t you want them. Of course if you don’t, you can always put them back.”

“No—I mean, I want them,” Credence stumbled. “You didn’t need to make this for me.”

Newt shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets since he was unsure what to do with them. “I had a tent I wasn’t using anymore. This is a much better use for it. I can understand needing a break from a person. Since we’ll be confined on this ship for a week, that may prove less and less convenient to manage. I wanted you to have something. Just close the flaps, and I won’t disturb you—I cannot say the same for everyone else.”

The nundu cub returned with its siblings but Newt made a sound between his teeth and ran off, inciting the cubs to chase him back to their habitat. Credence looked around him: at his bed and plush quilt, the hooks in the tent canvas that held his overcoat and jacket, the singular shelf on the floor for his shirts, waistcoats, trousers and underthings, the open box of his wand for when he did not want to carry it…every choice meticulous and thoughtful.

He began to sit down with the book in his hands, but hearing Newt’s voice talking to Charlotte brought him back out of the tent. “What about you?”

“Me?” Newt wondered, pushing her beak aside.

“Why haven’t you made a room for yourself?” Credence reiterated.

Newt blinked dreamily before he shrugged with a quick glance around him. “This is my room. I like sleeping with my creatures. I’m comfortable with everything here. Apart from the grindylows. Nasty buggers.”

The corner of Credence’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Which ones are those?”

Newt pointed to the nautical side of the case. “They’re the octopus-like creatures I’ve let wander. Alone, they can be quite calm, so I only keep three. Any more and they would be a real nuisance. Muggles called them water demons for a reason.”

Credence saw one swim out of the netted fresh water, magic keeping it within an aqueous orb as it swam over the mooncalves. “Do they grow bigger than that?”

“No, thankfully. This, as well as their…vicious proclivities, is possibly why merpeople have kept them as pets.”

Credence gaped at him. “Merpeople? Mermaids?”

Newt met his awe with a soft smile. “Yes. They are rather common, but rarely seen.”

“You’ve seen them?” he asked eagerly.

Newt laughed, “Yes, but only because Dumbledore wanted to use the lake to practice water enchantments. He summoned the merlord of the lake to ask his permission.”

“Lake…Hogwarts has mermaids in the lake? And a giant squid? Dumbledore can talk to mermaids?”

Newt’s chin dropped with bashfulness. “You’ll find Professor Dumbledore has a great many talents he likes to keep hidden for parlour tricks. One of them is his tenacity for languages. He must know a dozen at least, including the merpeople’s language.”

“And you needed an entire lake to practice with? What spells would you do with a whole lake?”

Newt glanced at the erumpent’s pond. “We don’t have a lake, but would you like to learn some of them?”

Credence brightened, nodding before he dashed to his tent to retrieve his wand.

*******

The journey to England was remarkably uneventful apart from a brief stop in Ireland before they circled around England to come down the Thames for London’s port. When Newt was not managing his creatures, he and Credence wandered the decks, the former performing harmless “magic tricks” for children with his hands. Credence liked being on deck at night; there were stars here he had never seen in New York’s sky. Inside the case, Credence’s progress with magic was tenfold. Though he stumbled over the spells initially, his memory was quick and his abilities matched it…

Until his wand broke altogether.

Newt had been with the runespoors when he heard Credence cry out and rushed through the bamboo forest to stop the bleeding of his hand. “Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Newt asked.

“I don’t think so,” Credence winced as Newt wrapped a cloth around his hand before pulling him to the caravan for his supplies. A bit of cream and a moment later Newt was picking up the two halves of his wand. “Is it…?”

Newt sighed as he examined the splintered half and then the other in which the spike of serpent horn clearly stuck out of the handle. “The core is unharmed, although I cannot say the same for the rest. Mr. Ollivander should be able to incase it once more but…to be honest even if it is the same core, a different wood might result in a very different wand. We will have to wait and see. Fortunately, we can visit him first thing once we arrive.”

It was a small relief that Newt’s wand still allowed Credence its use for practice, but after breaking so many, Credence grew impatient to have his own wand lest he risk breaking Newt’s as well. The night before they arrived in London, Credence was looking through one of Newt’s herbology books, reading about the manipulation of plants. As far as he could tell, making a plant larger could be achieved in many ways: fertilizer, potions—although the potion recipes looked far more complicated than Credence felt ready to try—as well as engorgio spells slightly tailored for the fibers of—

The rustle of leaves and something in his peripheral vision jerked his gaze up and he lurched away from the ivy descending over his open book. He watched as the vines stopped growing, dangling just above the floor.

He looked around him as if the other books or flames would confirm his thoughts. Turning the pages, he found how to make plants smaller…but the plant did not shrink to what it was. Try as he might, he could not command the plant to change without his wand. The next morning when he awoke, the plant was as it had first been, dangling like a soft green chandelier, making Credence wonder if he had imagined its growth altogether.

*******

London was vastly different from New York.

Credence had noticed the difference in climate upon their brief visit to Dublin, but London was…ghoulish and somehow ancient. When Credence voiced this upon Newt asking for his first impressions, Newt laughed merrily. “Yes, she’s always a bit grey, but don’t judge her too harshly. Diagon Alley is far more colourful in comparison.”

Some things were similar, though. The paperboys calling out headlines and vendors selling whatever they could roast in a skillet. Smoke stacks and soot and overall the urban grime was the same…

“What’s happened?”

Newt turned back to see what had caught his attention. A great deal of scaffolding was caging in buildings along the block, the structures within looking more demolished than built.

“This area was bombed,” Newt explained. “We’re almost to the Leaky Cauldron.”

“What’s that?”

“A wizard’s pub,” Newt said quietly.

“Why are we going there?”

“It’s the entrance to the wizards’ shopping district,” Newt explained, “and where we’ll be staying tonight. Ah, mind your step.”

Credence did, rising onto the step on which the pub’s threshold stood. He was immediately washed in the smells of old wood and beer. It took his eyes several minutes to adjust to the dimness of the room so he could see the bar of patrons gazing curiously at them as well as the tables, fireplace, and stairs leading up to the inn rooms.

“Good morning,” Newt chimed. “Is Mr. Ollivander in, do you know?”

An old man with a hooked nose at the bar chuckled. “He’s always in!”

“Thank you, em, do you have a room available?” he asked the barkeep.

“I’ve always got rooms, but not one with two beds. You’ll have to make it out of a closet,” he said with a look to Credence.

“That won’t be a problem,” Newt said as he found some coins. “Just for tonight.”

The barkeep accepted his payment and gave him a small brass key. “Second closet on the left of the third floor. Careful of the brooms. Spiders like them.”

“Thank you,” he said as he pocketed the key. Credence glanced up the stairs, anxiously. A closet with spiders was a step down from their second class travel lodgings but still a step up from his first house.

“This way,” Newt began, grasping Credence’s attention. He followed out a back door of the pub to a fenced off alleyway. Puzzled, Credence watched Newt reach up with his wand and tap the bricks in a peculiarly specific order. Then—

Credence hastily stepped back as the bricks began to move. “It’s alright,” Newt assured. “They move out of your way, not the other way around.”

Slowly, Credence stepped forward beside him…and then he smelled it. Not the ashy pollution of London or the sour smell of the pub. He smelled sugar and toasted almonds. He smelled the perfume of snowfall.

And there it was. Shop fronts of every colour lined the cobbled street. Hanging signs glittered with figures that moved. Toys whizzed around shop windows on miniature versions of the brooms on display. And everyone was dressed in the most lustrous fabrics Credence had ever seen. Long robes of midnight blue, forest green, and blood red moved like water around the wizards holding their magical umbrellas aloft against the gentle snowfall.

Newt waited for him to absorb it all, and when Credence’s overwhelmed eyes found him he asked, “Ready?”

He could only nod and follow somewhat blindly as he moved his eyes everywhere, trying to see everything he could. “Ollivander’s is here,” Newt pointed, “but I need to make a visit to the bank first.”

Credence ogled the green storefront and it’s metallic gold letters as long as he could before he was faced with the marble columns of Gringotts Bank, but it was the two figures on either side of the great doors that arrested his attention. Small yet robust, the figures had large pointed ears. One had an equally long nose while the other’s was too small for his face. Inside was another pair of double doors as well as two more…figures. Credence occupied himself with reading the words on the doors instead of staring too long, but one of their voices negated the effort.

“What is your business here?” said the shrill yet authoritative man.

“I’d like to make a currency exchange and a deposit, please,” Newt said.

“Very well,” the other answered, and pushed open the doors for them.

Credence stayed close to Newt, who heard his unasked question. “Goblins. They run the bank.”

Credence could only spare a moment to the elaborate floors under their feet before craning his neck at the high ceiling and the massive golden chandeliers hanging from it. “You…you have money here?”

“Not much,” Newt admitted, “but more and more if my niffler keeps at his habits. Hello.”

Credence looked up at the high counter where a row of goblins was counting coins, weighing gemstones, as well as scratching quills over parchment. The goblin Newt spoke to did not acknowledge him.

“I’d like to make a currency exchange as well as a deposit,” he said, and only when he placed a handful of jewelry on the counter did the goblin look up. His beady eyes looked at the small mountain of diamonds and then landed on Newt. “These are muggle wares.”

“Yes, but I think you’ll find the rubies and diamonds are the same as ours.”

The bank teller appeared dubious but Credence watched as the goblin’s claws lifted one of the necklaces fit for a queen. With a simple point of its aged finger, the silver and gold melted off the gems and solidified into cylinders for weighing. He made quick work of it. “The amount exchanges into nine hundred and thirty-six galleons, sixteen sickles, and twelve nuts. What name and vault shall I deposit these in?”

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander. Vault one thousand and thirty-one,” Newt said. “But I have more I would like to transfer.”

The goblin waited expectantly with his permanent deep frown on his face as Newt fished in his pockets. Of all the things he set on the counter, Credence only recognized the pink and green feathers Newt had picked up from the fwooper and augurey molting, along with the cartilage spikes the nundus shed.

The goblin looked everything over and then raised an eyebrow. “Expensive items from outlawed creatures might raise the question of origin.”

Credence’s heart plummeted, and still further at the confusion Newt’s shy smile created. “I wasn’t aware Gringotts started caring about the legality of their vaults' contents.”

The goblin was silent, and then began weighing the items before him. He examined the quality of the feathers, the springiness of the spikes, and then proclaimed, “Two thousand galleons even. Come with me. I assume you have your vault key.”

“Yes,” Newt confirmed as the goblin emerged through a door in the wall of counters. They followed out of the vast hall and down a somewhat modest corridor of white marble walls and obsidian floors to what looked like the platform of a train, only, in the place of a train was a…mine cart?

Credence watched the goblin get in the front seat and light the lamp with a spark from his finger. He followed Newt into the passenger seats, and no sooner had he sat down, then the cart rushed forward. Gusts of cool and then warm, and then frigid air rushed past them, momentarily blanketing Credence before they turned again and faced a new temperature. The caverns around them were both gaping and claustrophobic; the various stalactites and stalagmites like jaws around them before the cart hushed to a rather smooth stop.

“Mind your step,” the goblin warned as he exited first. “These vaults are particularly slippery and Gringotts is not responsible for your St. Mungo’s fees.”

Newt got out with ease and offered Credence a hand. The floors were indeed wet with condensation but the dripping of water and even the rush of a waterfall somewhere could be heard.

“Your vault is before you,” the goblin declared, and Newt turned his key in the lock that was centered in the metal door. Both key and door disintegrated into nothing, but revealed a small pile of silver and bronze coins on the floor. However, as soon as Newt stepped into his vault, gold began to rain gently as if from an invisible purse in the air. The coins landed perfectly in towers of galleons, sickles, and knuts.

“Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty-six galleons, sixteen sickles, and twelve knuts deposit,” the goblin narrated.

Credence had never seen so much money in all his life. He hadn’t any idea how they exchanged into dollars, and he was sure he did not care. He watched Newt lean over the mountain of coin and calculate how much he would need for their expenses. When he was finished, he stepped out and the door solidified once more. The key turned on its own and Newt took it out of the door before it vanished into a seamless wall.

The ride back to the bank was just as swift and disorienting, but before they stepped out into Diagon alley, Newt gave him a brief lesson on the coins within the safety of the bank. “The gold one is a galleon, the silvers are sickles, and the bronze little ones are knuts. If you can, pay with sickles or else you’ll be heavy with change from using galleons.”

“Do you only have three coins?” Credence asked.

“Yes—” Newt paused. “How many coins do American muggles use?”

“Six,” Credence said. “Pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, twenty cent and fifty cent coins. And then the paper money.”

“Muggles still use paper money?” Newt exclaimed with intrigue.

“Yes, but…you don’t?” Credence wondered.

“No, it’s far too easy to forge,” Newt informed. He lifted Credence’s hand to drop a number of coins into it. “Here, Ollivander’s will be a good place to practice. No students will be buying wands at this time so we should have his shop to ourselves.”

Credence’s hand was heavy in his pocket as they retraced their steps to Ollivander’s wand shop. A bell rang on the door when Newt opened it, and similar to the pub, Credence’s eyes needed to adjust too the gloom. It was more cramped than Ilvermorny’s wand room, but the smell of fresh wood was the same, along with the tingle in the air that Credence could not place.

A silhouette appeared at the end of a long corridor of shelves: a petite man with wiry hair like a wandering halo around his head before he exclaimed, “Newton Scamander! Well, my boy, how do you do?”

Mr. Ollivander came into the light. He was a weathered but youngish man with dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. His eyebrows had the first sparks of silver in them but otherwise he shook Newt’s hand like an old friend.

“I am well, Mr. Ollivander,” Newt smiled.

“How’s your mother? Holly and unicorn hair, I remember. Beautiful wand for a lioness like herself. Your brother has practically the same wand apart from the dragon heartstring. They are both well, I hope?”

“You remember their wands?” Credence blurted quietly.

Ollivander’s eyes met his with a knowing smile. “Oh I’ve never forgotten a wand or its wielder, and I shan’t start now. Garrick Ollivander, at your service.”

Credence lightly placed his hand in Ollivander’s for a shake. “Credence.”

“Welcome, Credence. I can’t imagine Newt’s wand breaking, so you must be here for a wand yourself?”

“Or maybe just a repair,” Newt answered, finding a glass tube in his breast pocket. Inside were the halves of Credence’s wand.

“Oh my,” Ollivander said with some gravity, accepting the pieces and returning behind his counter for his spectacles. “Oh my…” he said again as he slid a finger over the sharp white piece of horn. A thread of electricity connected with his finger, jostling him despite his laughter. “Serpent’s horn! My father worked with this material but I have never had the pleasure. You’ve managed to get yourself a very special wand, indeed, Credence. But this isn’t mine. Where did you get this?”

“Ilvermorny,” Credence answered.

“Ilvermorny,” Ollivander repeated with reverence. “Good wands, there. The pukwudgies make them, yes? It would have to be a bold creature to shave a serpent’s horn.”

“Can you repair it?” Newt asked.

“Without a doubt,” Ollivander assured. “But I must tell you, the core will need a different casing.”

Newt nodded. “I thought as much. When might it be ready?”

“That depends on you and the wand,” he looked up at Credence. “When do you need it?”

Credence swallowed, not wanting to push him but also impatient to practice. Newt supplied, “As soon as possible, I’m afraid. We’re just waiting for our friends to join us and then we will be bound for Hogwarts in a fortnight or so.”

Ollivander did not seem surprised but he did relinquish, “That’s not a lot of time at all to make a wand.”

“How long does it usually take?” Credence wondered.

“Oh, that varies,” Ollivander sighed, setting his glasses on the counter. “So much goes into the making of a wand. You can have two wands, both made from the wood of the same tree, even have hairs from the same unicorn, but if one is made under a new moon and the other during the waxing moon, they can have vastly different personalities. I reckon Ilvermorny uses the knowledge of the lunar calendar only sparingly since their wands are specifically made for students. Their pupils usually receive one wand on the day they arrive, and then another on the day they leave. However…”

He looked at the pieces before him once more. “I can’t imagine a serpent’s horn would go into a practice wand.”

“I…” Credence began. Ollivander looked up at him with kind intrigue. “I broke most of the wands before this one.”

Ollivander guffawed. “Did you now? Did he really?”

Credence glanced between Newt’s confirming smile and Ollivander’s glee. “I thought…I didn’t expect wand makers to like wands breaking so much.”

Ollivander waved the matter aside. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, dear boy. Of course every wand is special, but it is the wielder who ought to be sentimental about it, not the maker. A young man like you is every maker’s dream. You’re a challenge! Just like this one.”

He pointed to Newt, who froze under the mention. Ollivander chuckled. “May I?”

Newt silently handed over his wand and looked elsewhere.

Ollivander held it like something precious, his eyes soft as if he was meeting a lost friend. “I never expected to sell my first wand. A maker’s first batch are typically disasters, experiments, or simply not good enough to sell. But my family has been making staffs and wands for centuries, so my skills were thankfully this good. Nonetheless, when I made this, it was a challenge to myself more than a desire to sell it.”

He set his elbows on the counter in a casual stance as he held the wand for Credence to see. “Fossilized wood. _Very_ difficult to carve. Have you ever held fossilized wood?”

Credence shook his head, then corrected, “Well, he lets me practice with it.”

Ollivander was silent, only his brows lifted as he turned his head toward Newt. “Does he?”

Credence peeked at Newt, who seemed intent to not meet anyone’s gaze. “Is…is that not allowed?”

Ollivander smiled. “It is not a wizard’s rule to not share wands. Simply that wands never take a second wielder. _Never._ Except for…very special occasions.”

His tone suddenly lightened. “Then again, this is not any regular wand. Hold it.”

Credence accepted it, feeling its familiar smooth surface. It was comfortable in his hand. “Notice anything?”

“You said fossilized wood was heavy,” he responded. “This isn’t.”

“Exactly right,” Ollivander nodded proudly. “When I—Oh! Hello, little one.”

Everyone stopped to see Pickett’s leaves bobbing out from under Newt’s collar with curiosity. “I’ve always wanted to try using a bowtruckle’s leaves for wand cores.”

Picket jerked back inside Newt’s pocket with a high pitched sound. Ollivander assured, “You are safe from me. I would actually ask a favour of you. Bowtruckles eat woodlice, I believe. I’ve got a few of those trying to snack on my branches I’ve yet to carve into wands. Might you fix that for me?”

Pickett reemerged, albeit warily. Ollivander nodded over his shoulder. "Just in the back to the right. Your wizard can go with you. I’ll give his wand a polish for you helping me.”

Pickett climbed onto Newt’s shoulder as Newt turned sideways to navigate the narrow corridors of wand boxes. Ollivander pulled a plush cloth from under the counter to polish the wand as he continued. “Anyway, I knew it had magical properties when I found it. Everything about it was unordinary. And the blue, here, as well as the white when I—admittedly—broke off the end.”

He rubbed the wavy blue stripe separating the shaft from the handle and lifted the end so they could see the opalescent cavern within the handle. “How I was ever going to get a core into it, though, I had no idea. It was only when the lad came in one day that I had to scrape up some long lost knowledge. We haven’t made staffs for ages. A bit further east they still do, but I remembered that they don’t have cores. Staffs are difficult to use because of that very reason. Thus they are usually reserved for highly skilled or powerful wizards.”

“How do they use it if there isn’t a core?” Credence asked.

“Well once upon a time, we didn’t need such things,” Ollivander smiled softly. “As muggles learned to farm and make tools, so did we. But a little known secret: all plants are magic. Some have more than others just as some animals have magic, and some people don’t, but magic is the fiber of this world. You feel it, don’t you? Like electricity in the air. Or the lingering note from an instrument.”

Credence’s eyes widened as Ollivander gestured around them. “That’s what that is? I felt it in Ilvermorny too.”

“You are more sensitive to it than your peers,” Ollivander nodded. “Less and less wizards and witches are, I’m afraid.”

“But you’re saying that the wood is magic enough?” Credence wondered. “Then…but I keep breaking it.”

“Don’t think much of it,” Ollivader soothed. “A bit of wood is nothing compared to the tree, but we can’t very well carry an entire tree with us. Only with wand cores have we been able to evolve from staffs to wands, and wizards still like to embed a core of sorts on the end of the staff, if nothing else than for decoration.”

“You would have made a staff, then? If you couldn’t find a wand for Newt?”

“I would have done something to keep my reputation,” Ollivander laughed. “Even if I needed to return to the tree from which I carved his brother and mother’s wands, I would, but I quickly observed that he was different than his mother and brother. On the third day he came in, it was a new moon, and he had a butterfly on his finger which he was carrying with great care. ‘I saved her from a puddle,’ he told me, 'I'm waiting for her wings to dry.' I asked him why he had done that, and he said, ‘Because she was still alive.’ I said, ‘Well, that is a very good reason, indeed,’ to which he replied, ‘My papa says ladybugs and butterflies are lucky.’”

Mr. Ollivander chuckled nostalgically. “I wasn’t going to be the one to tell the boy that beetles or butterflies weren’t lucky at all, but I thought to myself… _the butterfly isn’t lucky…but this boy might be. Which perhaps makes this creature lucky after all._ It was certainly a lucky day for somebody, at least, as new moons usually are. Empty skies are filled with opportunity, some believe. So I pulled this one out again, I fixed the end, gave it a polish…and it has been Newt Scamander’s ever since.”

He slid a wand stand over the counter to set the polished wand on it. Credence recalled, “Newt said his father doesn't have magic.”

“That doesn’t amount to much,” Ollivander shook his head. “I have sold more wands to perfectly able children that had both parents without magic than to pureblood children more likely to stick the wand up their nose to search for bogeys. It is a muggle belief, that certain insects are lucky, but we wizards are not without our own superstitions.”

“What about orphans?” Credence asked quietly.

Mr. Ollivander met his gaze with clear eyes. “Yes. More and more nowadays, sadly. Did you lose your parents to the war?”

“No—I,” Credence hesitated. “I’ve always been an orphan.”

“That doesn’t make you any less who you are,” the wand maker consoled as he found different tools under the counter and placed them on top. “It might be liberating to the right mind. For some, they lack the proper guidance, but for others they might have the freedom to make themselves into who they wish to be; unburdened by the shackles some parents place on their children.”

“My foster mother was a muggle,” Credence revealed quietly. “I’m…I’m new to everything.”

“Ah…I see,” Ollivander breathed. Then he extended his hand. “Welcome to the wizarding world, then, Credence. I am very pleased to meet you.”

Credence swallowed thickly and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

“I ought to have known. Being with Newt, you’re lucky too.”

Credence grimaced slightly in an attempt at a smile. “I’m not lucky, sir.”

“Maybe not before. But your luck’s changing,” Ollivander smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love your comments! You have no idea what a pain it was to figure out wizarding currency with 1926 inflation rates -.- the things I do for this fic.


	11. Scamanders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Credence arrive at the hippogriff sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In advance, I haven't studied French in months so if you speak it, don't attack me u_u

“Do you know what moon you were born under?”

“No? Should I?” Credence wondered as Mr. Ollivander lifted his arm to be measured.

“In our modern time, very few people do. It was worth a chance. Stand up straight, please. Shoulders back.”

Credence felt just shy of ridiculous as the wand maker repositioned him to measure his height. He watched a quill mark his measurements on a piece of paper without a hand to guide it. Newt had returned with a well-fed Pickett and sat in a chair by the door, writing in his own notebook.

“How about your birthday,” Ollivander suggested.

“I’m nineteen,” Credence replied. “I’m sorry, but…what does this have to do with…”

“I meant the date. Chin up.”

Credence all but looked at the ceiling as the measuring tape gently went around his throat and even measured the distance between his jaw, adams apple, and clavicle. “I don’t know exactly…but February.”

Newt’s head jerked up. “February? That’s soon.”

Ollivander laughed as the tape wound itself around a peg on the counter and he held up two instruments on either side of Credence’s head. “No one’s ever told you your birthday? It won't be difficult to discover.”

Ollivander read something on his instruments that looked more apt for nautical navigation than wand making. “I can say now that the moon was very full for your birth…”

He went behind the counter and sifted through a great deal of paper before he slapped a faded _Daily Prophet_ on the surface. He unfolded pages of moving pictures until he reached the month’s lunar calendar. “February of nineteen-o-seven…the moon was full during these three days…and it was fullest at this point. Midnight of the twenty-eighth. Arguably your birthday could be March first.”

He smiled up at Credence, but his smile shifted into a frown. “I suspect most people react a little differently upon learning their birthday.”

Credence glanced between him and the paper, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “We didn’t celebrate birthdays.”

Ollivander stared at him mildly before he turned to Newt. “Has the war made America dull?”

Newt laughed breathily. “Not at all.”

Ollivander made a dubious sound. “I hear the muggles have outlawed spirits. Ridiculous. The lads come home missing limbs and brains and they can’t have a glass of champagne to celebrate being alive. That’s some way of thanks by the government.”

“If they want a pint, it’s no secret where to find it,” Newt said.

“My foster mother used to call it the witch’s drink,” Credence said quietly. He felt Ollivander and Newt’s eyes on him. “B-Because it…changes how you act.”

He trembled slightly against Ollivander’s laughter. “I _wish_ witches could take credit for spirits. Alas, it was the muggles who let their food rot and then were brilliant enough to drink it after.”

“I believe it’s called fermentation,” Newt corrected.

“Aye, you’re right,” Ollivander acquiesced, but then his pocket jangled as he procured a few sickles. “Speaking of drink, I’d quite like one. You remember Rosa Lee’s teashop? A nice pot of her jasmine will do us well, I think. And stop by the sweets shop for a cherry tart. Madam Malkin is still privy to discounting her robes with a bit of sweet bribery.”

Newt was already out the door when Ollivander thought to ask, “You will be buying robes, won’t you?”

“Do I need them?” Credence asked as the wand maker began brushing his fingertips over wand boxes, reading the labels.

“No one _needs_ robes, but they are the uniform for Hogwarts and, I’m sure you noticed, the chosen apparel for most wizards and witches. It will be good to have one or two convenient for casual and formal occasions. Ah.”

He carefully slid a long box out of the mountainous stack as well as a second from the wall of boxes behind him, and brought them to the counter. “Greek olive wood and unicorn hair. I’ve always liked the marbling in the wood.”

He set the wand on a wand stand as he unboxed the other. Less fondly, he said, “Bone and phoenix feather.”

Credence gazed between the vastly different wands. The olive wood was warm and alive compared to the pale and savage looking bone wand. The olive wood was slightly ridged like a crude spiral with darker, wonky stripes in the grain whereas the bone shaft was smooth and thin, its handle left to look like the bone it was with a sharp hook on one side.

Ollivander laced his fingers together and rested his mouth on them while Credence took his time. “I…I tend to make them explode.”

He chuckled. “Be my guest.”

Credence tentatively lifted the olive wood from the stand. The wood felt soft against his skin. “Is it strong enough?”

“We shall see,” the man answered cryptically. “I am testing a theory.”

Credence met his Mediterranean eyes. “What theory?”

“A hard wood does not necessarily mean a strong wood,” Ollivander said. “And I have learned that the swiftest way to learn a person’s character for a wand, is to notice which wands refuse him first. Give it a wave.”

He did, aiming for the newspaper still on the counter. Nothing happened to the paper, but Credence felt the wand in his grip change. He quickly set it down and watched the spiraled wood unwind until it was as straight as its sibling.

Credence peeked at Mr. Ollivander watching the proceedings silently. “And the next,” he prompted.

Credence picked up the bone only to immediately set it down. “No. Not that one.”

Ollivander did not ask what was wrong. He simply went back among his shelves and let his fingers drift over the labels until he pulled out his own wand: a long light wooded piece which he held up for a whisper to pass over its tip—

A box slid out of the stack above him, answering his summons. Ollivander moved his ladder and climbed up to retrieve it. Upon the counter, Credence watched him reveal a likewise light wood, even paler than Ollivander’s. “What is this?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk. “You know, I was never sure. Technically, it’s a piece of driftwood, but the tree was growing right out of the sandbar, bleached white by the sun. The trunk looked dead, yet there were green leaves on it. It looked like it was growing right out of the sea. A strong tree…but soft wood. Adaptable. After you.”

Credence picked it up and felt its smooth surfaces as well as its grooves. The handle was textured with carvings similar to the movement of water and sea foam, but Credence looked up at Ollivander. “I don’t feel anything.”

The man’s smirk lingered on his face. “It doesn’t have a core yet.”

Credence followed his gaze to the serpent horn resting on the counter and let the wand maker take the wand from his hand. “It is unorthodox, however…”

Credence watched him pull the handle off of the wand shaft, revealing a cavity inside. Aligning the openings of the wand pieces around the horn, Ollivander carefully wiggled the wand around it until tiny threads of electricity danced between the pieces of wood. Closing the wand, Ollivander gave it a strong twist, and gasped as the wand fused together into a single length of wood, and landed on the counter.

“The wand is certainly not choosing me,” he breathed, shaking off the electric shocks from his hands. “After you, my boy.”

Credence lifted the wand with some hesitancy, but from the look on Ollivander’s face, it seemed a good match. “As I said, lucky. The core still fancies you. Good. Very good.”

He lifted a hand and felt his hair standing up with static electricity the same moment Newt returned with a box of pastries as well as a rather round, dark woman bearing a pot of tea.

“Garrick Ollivander, when did I last tell you to not make your customers fetch you tea?” she scolded.

“Yesterday,” he grinned, procuring four cups.

“No, no, not for me,” she huffed, already back at the door. “I’m close to perfecting a plum oolong blend. Don’t disturb me unless you do it yourself, you old goat.”

“I’m not old yet,” he reminded as the bell chimed behind her.

*******

“You like it?” Newt asked as they left Ollivander’s.

“I think so,” Credence said, holding the new wand in his hand.

“Good,” he chimed. "That worked out marvelously. Do you want robes? I don’t have Queenie’s artistry for fashion but…”

Credence watched a pair of wizards in thick wool robes trimmed in shining purple silk walk past him. He swallowed thickly and admitted, “Maybe one. Are they expensive?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Newt said as he opened the door to _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions._ Unlike Ollivander’s shop, which had a counter separating customers from his work area, they entered a lit foyer with a small golden chandelier above their heads and leather upholstered chairs for waiting. The air smelled of lilac.

“Just a moment!” came a woman’s voice. After several moments a medium sized woman with a blond bob appeared wearing horned spectacles on a chain around her neck. “Good day, dears. Robes, cloaks, or formal—Newton Scamander what on earth have you done to my work?”

She stormed forward, confronting Newt against the wall. “Nothing! I just transfigured it for traveling.”

“Into a hideous muggle’s overcoat?” she stormed.

He quickly swished his wand over himself, and his rich blue coat lengthened into a robe of the same colour. “It’s fine! Wizards in New York don’t wear robes. And I enjoy the pockets…”

His words faded as he brushed a hand over his robe, whereas Madam Malkin bloomed with colour. “Pockets, you say! _Pockets._ I’ll show you pockets. _You._ With me. Now.”

Credence’s eyes widened as she grabbed his elbow and began to pull him into her workshop. Newt called after them, “Would you like a tart?”

“You just wait and see that I give you a discount, Mr. Scamander!” she yelled back.

*******

Despite his initial impression of her, Madam Malkin proved to be a kind hostess. At least, she never pricked him with her dozens of needles. She spoke quite a bit but never seemed over eager for a reply from him, so he was left alone to watch in the full length mirror on the ottoman she had made him stand. The only questions he needed to answer were, “You’re American?” and “Only casual wear? No no no, you will have both, darling. You never know when you must look especially fabulous…”

Afterwards she seemed more interested in Queenie and her clothing choices than him. She draped various fabrics over his shoulders to see how they went with his complexion and before long he felt the weight of a sturdy but soft material hanging off his shoulders. She found a thick blue material similar to his overcoat for his casual robe, but much like Queenie, Madam Malkin insisted on a deep red for his formal attire.

“It’s a layering affect, you see,” she illustrated in the mirror. “Your waistcoat is the heart, followed by your black suit jacket, and then the robe.”

“I’m…not comfortable being this bright,” Credence said.

“Oh,” Malkin chirped, and then whipped the fabric off him. “Why didn’t you say so?”

A rich black silk slithered over his shoulders next, and he immediately blurted, “I can’t afford this—”

“Oh hush, do you think that man brought that box of sweets for himself? Don’t you concern yourself with the price, dear. If you’re so bothered by it, I’ll make them in the slimmer fashion.”

He did not know what this meant until she precisely folded and pinned the fabric on his shoulders, preparing to make a robe that did not have sleeves. It was more like…expensive drapery around his body, but it cascaded like black water around him. He felt older in it, and quite simply, he felt like a wizard.

“You like it!” Madam Malkin observed, standing back to admire her work.

A shy smile softened his face as he nodded. “Yes.”

“Good!” she sang, and he lurched as needles and thread soared around him, finding her pins and yanking on the fabric. Within moments her work was finished, and she led the way back to the foyer where Newt quickly stood.

“Is everything all right?” he asked Credence.

“Of course he’s all right, he’s not my pin cushion,” she huffed as paper and ribbon wrapped itself around the folded robes while she pressed buttons on her cash register. It dinged once before she took the box of pastries from Newt and redid her calculations. Credence blanched, not wanting to know what they would have cost without the _friend’s discount,_ as she called it.

The robes set themselves into a box, but not before Credence switched his overcoat for his new blue robe. An asymmetrical line of toggles closed it over his torso as Madam Malkin and Newt both smiled as he pocketed his passport and wand. “How are they for pockets, hm?” Malkin scoffed as Newt put the box into his case.

“Marvelous,” he said, and held the door for Credence. “I hope she wasn’t overbearing,” he added once they were outside.

“I thought she would be,” Credence admitted, “but it was fine. Thank you. I…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to pay you back.”

Newt stared at him a moment before he said, “I didn’t do it to be paid back. Now if it’s all right with you, I need to visit the publishing house.”

Credence did not mind at all; in fact he wished to stay Diagon Alley longer, feeling his robe around him, keeping him warm against the snowfall, but the storefront Newt led him to removed the warmth from his cheeks.

_Obscurus Books._

He gripped Newt’s sleeve, halting his path inside. “Why is it called that?”

With parted lips, Newt glanced at the storefront and calmly explained. “It’s just them thinking themselves clever. This publisher commissions nonfiction and school books, usually, and hardly anything is known about an obscurus. They’re making themselves seem like the keepers of knowledge, so to speak… Would you rather wait out here?”

Credence’s eyes never left the painted letters until he nodded curtly, releasing Newt’s robe. “This won’t take long,” he promised, and dashed inside.

Credence turned to look down the emptying street of Diagon Alley. It was only mid-afternoon but the approaching winter sunset was sending shoppers home or back to the Leaky Cauldron. Credence’s steps wandered, passing a sweet smelling place selling ice cream despite the season, and another shop so filled with books he wondered how people shopped in there.

He looked down at himself, at his wizard robes, velvet waistcoat underneath, sleek trousers, even his new shoes. Credence realized he had nothing from his previous life. Even his underthings, Queenie had thoroughly replaced. He supposed he could not complain, given how every thread was superior in both quality and comfort, but without anything familiar, Credence felt a bit lost. Or perhaps inside out. Nothing on him was his…

But he realized that nothing from the Barebone orphanage had been either. Mary Lou did not allow them more items than was necessary, or what they needed to not complain. In his case, this meant little to nothing by way of personal possessions. The very clothes on his person were taken off him to beat him with.

He rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling the length of his wand in his breast pocket as well as his passport.

_His wand._

The passport might be returned to Dumbledore soon but the wand was his. It chose him.

The pad of his finger felt the stitches on his shoulder and the thread count of his robe. Madam Malkin sized these clothes for him. They were made for him, and Newt had given him a place to put them…

Newt.

Credence looked up, realizing he was very far from his original destination. He had a unique talent for finding alleyways but this was one he was not aware of wandering into and one which he did not want to be.

Dark and seedy, the very air was cloudy with soot, or something else if the smell was any indication. Lifting his head fully, Credence tried to read the shop names or look for a street sign…something _and Burkes_ , what looked like a vacant barber shop, and… _The Coffin House_?

Rounding a corner, Credence lurched away from a window display of shrunken heads that appeared to be talking to one another before they noticed him. He quickly retraced his steps only to nearly bump into someone who was more hair than face.

“Lost?” a man’s voice rasped, ruined by tobacco.

Credence’s throat was dry. He could only shake his head and look at the ground as he tried to step around the person, but they blocked his path.

“Yer lost,” he said in thick cockney.

“I’m…not,” he whispered.

“Wha’? Speak up then. Can’ hear ye in all this smoke.”

The man stepped forward, pushing Credence back. “Wha’s wrong? Cat go’ ye tongue?”

Credence shook his head and the man made a sound like laughter. “Righ’. Cuz ther’s no cats ‘round here…”

He made a vile slurping sound with his tongue the same moment he reached for Credence—

_“Petrificus totalus.”_

The man jerked and froze like a statue. Credence stared into his eyes as he fell backward and landed _hard_ on his back. On his other side was Newt, his wand glowing faintly with light as he rushed toward Credence.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” he breathed, grasping his arm and moving his wand over Credence to look for injuries. One of the toggles of his cloak was open. Credence’s lashes fell closed as he filled his lungs and shook his head.

“I need you to say it,” Newt urged.

Credence lifted his eyes to meet Newt’s. “I’m okay.”

He nodded and looked down at the prone man, whose hand had managed to get Credence’s passport. Newt quickly tore away the parchment envelope and opened it in front of the man’s eyes. After a long moment, he closed it, put it back in Credence’s pocket, and closed his robe before taking Credence’s hand.

“We need to go. As with most cities, London has places best left unvisited. Knockturn Alley isn’t a place to be at night…or any time, really.”

Pointing his wand at the man, he quickly uttered the counter curse while the man was dazed and pulled Credence up the lane. They burst onto Diagon Alley and it was like seeing it for the first time all over again compared to the dark grit that stuck to their lungs in Knockturn Alley.

“Don’t tell Tina,” Newt murmured.

They peeked at each other as their steps slowed to a normal stride, a splash of mirth mirrored between them as they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. Newt released his hand to hold the door for him, but the sour smell of ale and the loud hum of conversation were greatly welcomed. 

*******

“Where are we going?” Credence asked the next morning. “If you only bought one night at the inn…”

“It’s a bit out of the way,” Newt said as he purchased two train tickets. “But I need to drop off my hippogriffs someplace they’ll be safe. I know a hippogriff breeder and sanctuary just a bit south. We should be there just after luncheon.”

“Billiards or bludgers?” the ticket clerk asked as he printed Newt’s tickets.

Credence did not understand, much less when Newt replied, “I favour the quaffle.”

The clerk nodded and put the tickets through a puncher. Credence accepted his ticket and saw the punctured holes were in the shape of three stars. “Be sure to get in the last carriage. Train leaves on the hour.”

“Thank you,” Newt said and led the way through the station to their platform. The train was already present as Newt strode to the end of the platform for the caboose of the train. Credence looked around, trying to find either more wizards or wondering if they would be noticed, but their robes were taken for trench coats and no one paid them much attention.

At the entrance of the train was a ticket taker, who took their tickets to be punched and handed them back with, “Enjoy your travels, gentlemen.”

Credence looked upon his ticket to see a moon had joined his stars—

The familiar shift in the air lifted his attention to the innards of the carriage; which was much larger on the inside. Similar to a dining carriage, on either side were tables of seated witches and wizards already enjoying glasses of giggle water or coffee; reading the _Daily Prophet,_ and overall waiting for the train to depart.

Newt brought them to their seats and sat opposite Credence as the barkeep approached and asked them what they would like to drink. Credence thought about it and said, “Can I…can I have a Coca Cola?”

The barkeep blinked at the muggle beverage but nodded silently and turned to Newt, who was staring over Credence’s shoulder at the cover of a _Daily Prophet._ His chin jerked up to meet the barman’s attention. “Water’s fine.”

“I’ve never had pop before,” Credence said pleasantly, watching the barman pour their drinks. Newt smiled but ducked his head, his eyes returning to the newspaper cover.

_Grindelwald Supporters At Large._

*******

The train ride was pleasant and true to Newt’s schedule, they stepped onto the platform in an open-air station just after lunchtime. “Are you comfortable? It’s quite a walk.”

Credence accepted the scarf he offered him since the road was like a tunnel of wind. The station was in a small village but the road quickly turned into a mixture of gravel and pressed grass. Wheat and tall grass fenced them in but vast fields and hills were an emerald and sienna blanket under a cerulean sky. The sun was hot on their robes whenever it broke through the clouds to shine on the occasional clusters or singular trees standing sentinel over the landscape.

Credence noted that the horizon ahead was an endless line of forest, and they reached it sooner than he expected. The smell of the trees reminded him of Ilvermorny’s mountains and birds were singing in hidden places above their heads. Credence wondered if Newt could find them since he smiled faintly as he gazed up at the branches, but voices soon reached their ears. Credence frowned upon realizing it was not English, and then deeper still as he recognized the sound of anger.

The forest opened into a vast meadow with a sizable cottage on one side and a stone barn on the other. Along the tree line were hippogriffs pecking at what looked like foxes hanging from feeding posts but near the barn were two figures, a man and a woman. The woman was the angry one.

“Tu avais seulement à dire non! Tu n’allait pas le faire, et maintenant nous n’avons rien! Je dois le faire ici! Mon amour, c’est l’hiver. Nous avons besoin…”

"Je sais, chérie, mais quand nous aurons besoin de couvertures, pourquoi acheter ce que nous avons déjà?"

Credence stepped toward Newt as he came to a stop some distance away. They glanced at each other, Newt pressing his lips together as if in apology.

“Je te l’ai dit!” the woman stormed. “Les animaux ont ruiné les couvertures! Ne me blame pas pour vous oreilles sourdes—” the tall man with bright copper hair and gold rimmed spectacles noticed them, then, inciting the woman to erupt, “"REGARDE MOI QUAND JE SUIS FURIEUSE CONTRE TOI!”

“Of course, darling,” the man switched, “but our son has just arrived.”

“Bien sûr il est là!” she continued without turning around. “Ne penses tu pas que je sais quand mon fils vient d'entrer sur le sol anglais?”

“Maman,” Newt said softly.

The dark locks of hair escaping her braided bun fanned around her as she turned, her anger vanishing as soon as her eyes landed on him. Credence had never seen anyone look so livid and then so close to tears as quickly as she did, but he had even less time to process it as she ran toward them. Newt caught her in his arms, smiling as he swung her gently around as she clutched at him. When he set her down over the grass, she was not much shorter than Credence, but she yanked Newt down to litter any bit of skin she could with kisses. Across his cheeks and eyelids, his jaw and lips she claimed while speaking rapidly in French.

“Newt! Mon amour! Tu étiez parti depuis—Pourquoi ne m’êtes-vous pas venu immédiatement?”

“English, I think,” the man suggested. “His guest looks very confused.” He smiled at Credence and held out his hand. “Hello. I’m Claude Scamander.”

“My name’s Credence,” he replied, accepting his hand.

“Credence?” Mr. Scamander repeated. “That’s a unique name. And you are American?”

He nodded as the man’s wife approached. Credence glanced at her surprisingly old fashioned dress with the skirt hitched up and tucked under the waist of her trousers underneath. “Charlotte Scamander, how do you do?” she said. She did not so much as offer her hand but took his.

“Charlotte…?” Credence realized with a look at Newt, who only smirked slightly before his father approached for an embrace. Afterward both of them looked at Credence expectantly. “Sorry…you sound English but weren’t speaking it.”

Mr. Scamander nodded toward his wife. “She’s the Frenchie.”

“My French grandmother caught herself a bonny Scotsman,” she explained herself. “We’ve been marrying Englishmen ever since.” She turned back to her son. “Well go on, give me your excuses. Why have you waited to see your mother?”

“Credence needed a wand repair,” Newt gave, ”and I visited my publisher.”

“And are you published, yet?” she interrogated.

“No. Not yet,” he admitted.

“You’ve now spent almost more of your life outside of Britain than in it, do you realize?” she uttered. 

“Yes,” he obeyed.

“I should _like_ for my flesh and blood to treat me as much of a priority as I do them. It’s not like you have a wife waiting on you as your brother does—”

“Never mind her, she worries,” her husband curtailed for Credence’s sake.

“Of course I worry! My youngest has chosen to gallivant across the globe because some bored publisher is too old to do it himself. I must say, Newt, I am not impressed.”

“She speaks for herself only,” his father intercepted. “I am eager to hear of your adventures. I’m sure you have more than a few.”

Newt smiled and admitted, “I’m here as much for business as leisure. While I was in America we had a skirmish with smugglers. I recovered a number of hippogriffs who I thought would be welcome here.”

Charlotte had crossed her arms at the mention of smugglers but now she and Claude looked down at his case. “Well of course they’re welcome. I only wish we had _blankets_ to keep them warm.” She stabbed Claude in a glare.

“I think we’ll manage,” he soothed. “Let’s see them.”

Newt’s smile faded as he anxiously said, “Well, I…I have—”

Credence jumped at the sound of a deep and _loud_ baying of something coming toward them. He realized it was a dog but one with a long drooping face, flopping ears, and squat, bowlegged limbs.

“BOWWOAH!! BOWOAHWOAH!”

Charlotte sighed, “You’re late, Russel. The intruders are already here.”

“Russel?” Newt beamed. “Russel’s still alive?”

“Oh yes,” his father smiled as Newt bent over to greet the basset hound. The creature immediately flopped onto the ground, rolling for Newt’s hands to pet his big chest curved like a pigeon breast. Mr. Scamander introduced to Credence, “The Scamanders’ guardian and established free loader.”

“Some guard dog,” Charlotte huffed. “Let’s get you boys inside and fed.”

Claude took Newt’s case and walked with a hand on his son’s shoulder as Charlotte led them inside the cottage. Credence expected it to be larger on the inside but on the contrary, the ceilings were tall but the house was just as it was on the outside. Russel brushed against his legs, his long wet nose sniffing his hand while Credence took in the thick beams overhead, the fireplace in the kitchen spitting violet sparks against the simmering pot of stew as well as a kettle, and the knitting needles working on a pair of socks in the corner.

“Hello, Margaret,” Mrs. Scamander greeted as a cow with a large blanket strapped around its body stuck its head through the open window. She was there long enough to steal a carrot off of the counter and then wandered away. Credence began to think being in the Scamander house would not be unlike staying in Newt’s case.

Charlotte pointed her wand at the cabinets and two bowls floated to the pot where a ladle filled them with soup. The bowls found their place at the table while the kettle poured tea into mugs and milk and sugar waddled their way over to Newt’s hands. “Where in America are you from?” Charlotte asked as she sat beside her son.

“New York City,” Credence answered, before tasting the soup. It was not as flavourful as Newt’s but it warmed his bones and put rouge in his cheeks.

“New York,” she said wistfully. “It’s been a long time since I was in New York. Is it still as fabulous as before?”

Credence hesitated. “For most people, I guess.”

He looked up and found Charlotte watching him. “It’s not home for you?”

He was not sure how to answer that. He glanced at Newt. “I like Diagon Alley.”

She smiled, “Who doesn’t? When you’re finished with that, I’ll show you to our guest room.”

But upon viewing the guest room, Credence was instantly reminded of his first bedroom. The vaulted ceilings and wooden beams gave every room a sort of attic feeling despite their spacious size, but his foster room had been the attic. Charlotte was giving a tour of the room, how the window unlatched, and something about firewood if he needed it, but Credence backed out of the room, hearing her voice as if through a bad radio…

“Oh, apologies,” Newt said from bumping him, but he read Credence’s anxiety and said, “You’d rather stay in your room?”

Credence nodded, the back of his throat sore.

Newt nodded, “I just have something to do and then I daresay you will have much fewer intrusions. Maman,” Charlotte was watching them, “is the barrier still in place?”

“Of course. Why?”

“I…have a few more creatures who would like some fresh air.”

Her hands found her hips. “How much more is a ‘few’?”

Mischief flashed in Newt’s eyes as he simply left them and moved down the stairs to go back outside. Credence caught up with him as he set down his robe for his case to rest upon before he opened it and summoned, _“Accio occumy nest.”_

The nest of bamboo squeezed out of the case with its chirping inhabitants eagerly flying out to rest around Newt’s neck or flying around him in exploration.

_“Accio niffler burrow.”_

_“Accio demiguise nest.”_

_“Accio home tree.”_

One by one, Newt brought out specific homes, setting them up around the meadow or in the barn or near the trees depending on the creature’s comfort before he whistled with the summons, “Charlotte.”

The red hippogriff and all burst from the case. The erumpent trotted around the meadow, startling the residential hippogriffs and rubbing her horn against the trees before rolling in the grass. Charlotte the hippogriff galloped in a wide circle, taking in her surroundings before she trotted toward Newt. One of the occumies sat in a coil on her backside as he caught her beak and stroked her feathers.

“Charlotte, eh?” Mr. Scamander observed as he approached. The surrounding hippogriffs reacted to him but he lithely bowed, and afterward approached. “She’s beautiful. Is that why—”

The hippogriff snapped at Russel waddling over; the basset hound flopped onto his side innocently, pawing the air flirtatiously. The hippogriff chuffed and trotted away, the occumy bouncing on her back.

“Oh, I see,” Claude chuckled.

“Newt,” Credence said, pointing to where the niffler was scurrying over the grass toward the house.

“It’s all right,” Newt assured. “The house and his burrow are the only places with anything shiny. I can’t lose him this way. If he causes too much trouble—”

A great crash was heard from inside the house, followed by, “NEWT!”

“Well. He lasted a good two minutes,” Newt sighed, and went to help his mother.

Credence lowered himself into the case but paused when Mr. Scamander asked him, “Might I join you?”

He did not understand why he was asking but eventually nodded. It was Newt’s case so it was Newt’s permission he needed, but Credence supposed the owner wouldn’t mind if it was another Scamander.

Mr. Scamander followed him through the caravan and guffawed at the large habitats he saw: the forest, grassy plain, and graphorn desert. The graphorns were wandering nearby, curious at the goings on and the sudden vacancy of their neighbors. The foals bounded over to Credence, tasting his hand before the mother and father tickled his hair.

“My son has been busy…” Claude marveled, not shying from the creatures that greeted him next. When the augury landed on the graphorn’s spikes he uttered, “Oh! There’s more?”

“The warm creatures and the fish probably need to stay in here,” Credence guessed, pointing to the right.

Claude eagerly went around the corner and visibly swayed between the netted fresh water and the ocean on the ceiling. “Wow!” he uttered gleefully, splashing his boot in the small waves that licked along the side and floor of the case. “Is this one safe?”

Credence came out of his tent to look at the glowing squid wandering close to Claude. “Newt bottle feeds it,” he shrugged.

“You’re a baby,” Claude awed, reaching up to meet the blue tentacle reaching for him. Upon contact, the creature flushed shades of coral, blue, and white. The creature emerged out of the water, but instead of falling it floated as if it was still submerged, gently draping itself around Claude’s strong shoulders. Credence realized he looked like Newt, but slightly taller and of course older. Newt had more auburn and brown in his hair while Mr. Scamander was all copper and silver. It was Charlotte who had given Newt his freckles…

The sound of a cleaver drew them back to the caravan, where Newt emerged with two buckets and meat for the graphorns. He set down one of the buckets before he said, “Hello,” as they felt his face. He tossed the meat into the sand and started toward the nundu’s terrain when he noticed them. “Ah, he’s hungry.”

He levitated a bottle of formula for his father to use and passed through the shower of water into the nundu’s forest. It parted like a curtain for him and he soon came back through it with a cub on his heels. He picked her up and placed her on the rock ledge. “You’re too old for formula.” He explained to Credence in passing, “Milk is like candy to them after they’ve switched to meat.”

He turned to the first bucket he had set down and suddenly threw something in the air. Credence had a second to recognized the small orb from which he squeezed blue venom for Frank before he gaped at the plume of green and blue that burst from it. The swooping evil flew in a wide arc and then landed upon what looked a bit too much like brains in the bucket.

Newt jogged up the stairs to the runespoors’ caverns as Claude approached beside Credence to watch the creature rapidly devouring its meal. “I’m not sure which is more impressive,” he said, “that he can fold himself so small or that he can eat so much.”

They watched Newt emerge through the bamboo forest to feed his mooncalves before he made his way back to the caravan. The evil swooped up and around him to be caught and hidden once more inside his wrist as he carried Pickett on his forearm.

“Done? All right, darling, up you swim.” Credence watched Claude help the squid back into the water. “Credence, how did you and Newt meet?”

He felt his lungs begin to ache like he was holding his breath. The answer came to him in a veiled version of the truth. “My cousin…she met Newt first. They’re coming here soon.”

“They?” Claude turned to him.

“She and her sister.”

“Both your cousins,” Claude rephrased. Credence nodded and he found Newt sorting beans and berries in the caravan. “Who are Credence’s cousins?”

Newt glanced at him but returned to his task. “Tina and Queenie Goldstein. They’d like to visit Hogwarts, where I’m taking Credence. They were a great help to me in New York, as was Jacob Kowalski.”

“Ah,” Claude said with intrigue, but somehow Credence felt like he was being tested. “How many more guests should we be expecting?”

“None. Credence and I will meet them when they arrive in London and we will continue on to Hogwarts.”

Claude was visibly taken aback. “The ladies will be tired from travel, I imagine. And you so rarely bring friends home. By rarely, I mean never.”

“Dumbledore is waiting for us,” Newt said quietly, impatiently.

“Sure, and I doubt he will suddenly vanish. Meeting the Minister is easier than removing Albus from Hogwarts.”

They were interrupted by Charlotte entering with the niffler held firmly by the scruff. “Newt, so help me, if this one gets into my silver again, I will be most vexed if my watch goes missing.”

Newt sighed, taking the creature off her hands. “I’ll keep him in here,” he promised.

“When you’re done with whatever you’re doing, I have an errand for you to run in town.”

“He’s just gotten here,” Claude countered. “Let the man catch his breath.”

“He’s caught it,” she retorted. “The young do that easily. And since your father can’t be bothered to supply us with proper winter garments for the creatures, you’ll have to get them.”

She left them, then, and Credence dared not speak until she was out of the case. “Is she always…?”

“Vindictive?” Claude supplied. “No. She just isn’t accustoming to growing old with much grace. Her knees gave out on her yesterday and she has arthritis in her hands.”

“She doesn’t look old,” Credence said as Claude began to climb out of the case.

Mr. Scamander looked back at him with bright eyes. “She will be pleased to hear that. Did you think I was older?”

Credence glanced at Newt before he nodded. Claude chuckled. “On the contrary, she is thirty years my senior. Having magic in your veins helps you live a bit longer.”

*******

As Credence and Newt walked back into town Credence found the sight of Newt without his case a strange one. Newt also seemed uncomfortable by the way he swung his arms and then pocketed his hands and fidgeted without the luggage to keep him busy. He seemed more at ease after acquiring his mother’s supplies and Credence noticed how the town was entirely a wizard domain, similar to Diagon Alley.

Night fell before they could return to the cottage so Newt suggested they get dinner at the tavern in the center of town. Having liked the Leaky Cauldron’s pies, he agreed, and they entered the pub that was quite brighter than the Leaky Cauldron’s darkness. A second floor circled the room and its beams were over their heads as Credence followed Newt to a table in the back before a barmaid came by to tell them, “French onion soup and duck are tonight’s menu, gents.”

“Duck for him, and I’d like the soup, if you’d be so kind,” Newt asked.

“Just the soup, love?” she wondered.

“Perhaps a large bowl,” Newt smiled. “Unless there’s a secret menu?”

She smiled too. “Sure, love. I’ll see what I can find. Pay at the bar.”

Newt left their items with Credence to do just that, and returned with a pitcher of water as well as a two glasses. “When do you think the others will get here?”

Newt poured as he answered, “I’m not certain. Tina should send word when they are on their way.”

“With an owl? How do owls fly across the ocean?”

“There are port key buoys as well as way-station ships for them. Port keys are objects that allow, upon contact, the person to immediately arrive in the place the object is enchanted to take them. Depending on which direction the owl flies, they find the ship or buoy, and are transported closer to where they need to go.”

“Do wizards not use telephones?” Credence wondered.

Newt laughed, “We can but in areas like this, areas highly populated by magic, electric technology is rendered useless.”

“What about the…” it took a moment for Credence to remember the terms and spoke over the volume of the tavern, “the quills? Why do wizards use feathers to write instead of pens?”

Newt leaned close to hear him. He pulled at his bowtie to unravel it as he considered, “I suppose it is a number of reasons. Habit, being the most obvious. Why change what works well enough already, is the mentality, and more so after the war turned the world upside down. People want what they know. Largely it is a display of how advanced we are in some matters but then so dreadfully behind on others. Thank you.”

The maid arrived with his soup and a plate of toasted bread with butter on the side as well as Credence’s duck breast. Another small plate of roasted root vegetables was set between them as she asked, “Anything else, love?” She was asking Newt.

“This is lovely. Thank you,” he cast his eyes downward. Credence watched the barmaid hesitate to leave but turned back to Newt offering his bread.

They were into their meal when Credence finally asked, “Why did she call you ‘love’?”

“Just being polite, I suppose,” Newt disregarded, but Credence felt more confused than answered as the volume of the pub suddenly went up. He and Newt peered at the gathering of people around the front door welcoming whoever had just arrived. Credence looked down to continue eating, but heard Newt’s spoon land against the side of his bowl. The man jerked his gaze away from the front of the pub as if to hide.

“What is it?” Credence asked.

“Nothing,” Newt murmured, but he peeked from under his fringe. Credence looked again to see the tall man with dark curly hair smiling and slapping his greeters on the back.

“What brings you back home?” the barkeep called.

“You know my mum,” the man laughed in answer. “I think I would get owls every day if I did not visit every week.” Those around him laughed too.

“Do you know him?” Credence asked.

But Newt did not answer. Credence looked between him and the man until the man’s eyes felt Newt’s on him and his grin faded. Suddenly he pushed past the crowd around him, coming straight toward their table. Credence kept waiting for some sort of signal from Newt but none came as the man landed upon them, smile back in place as he yanked Newt by the head for an attack of kisses not unlike Charlotte's.

“Bloody hell. Reggie! Bring my pint over here! Our baby boy’s home!”

“Who?” Credence heard somebody ask, but the man was all but wrestling Newt in an embrace.

“My brother…Theseus,” Newt introduced, somewhat begrudgingly as Theseus planted a loud kiss on Newt’s cheekbone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I’m going to regret everything after we meet Theseus in the movies but whatever *_* And sorry for all of the C names in this chapter .-.
> 
> The argument is something like:
> 
> "You just had to say no! You were not going to do it, and now we have nothing! I have to do it here! My love, it is winter. We need..."
> 
> "I know, darling, but when we need blankets, why buy what we already have?"
> 
> "I told you! The animals have ruined the blankets! Do not blame me for your deaf ears--LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M MAD AT YOU!"
> 
> "Of course, darling, but our son has just arrived."
> 
> "Of course he is here! Do you not think I know when my son has stepped onto English soil?"
> 
> So, yes, haha and then she complains why he hasn't come home immediately. It will be explained later how she knows his whereabouts but I think the Weasley vibes do enough for now haha


	12. Wizard's Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence receives a different demonstration of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get everything I wanted to happen into this chapter but it's long enough *_* the next one will be better, promise ~

“Fucking hell, Newt, took you long enough,” Theseus declared after he landed in his seat and took a long draft of beer. “What’s brought you home? It can’t be your book since you’ve been submitting drafts through the post.”

Newt seemed like he was about to respond but then stared at his brother. “How do you know that?”

Theseus shrugged out of his robes as he said, “When my work takes me into Knockturn Alley, I pass through Diagon and see Mr. Worme. He likes my visits and if nothing else, he’s kind enough to let me see the postmarks of your parcels so I can remotely know where you are. You write to Auguste Worme more than any of us.”

“You work in Knockturn Alley?” Credence asked quietly, so Theseus had to turn to him and lean forward.

“I’m an auror,” he explained, “and you’re not from here. I’m Theseus.”

He offered his hand, which Credence shook. “Credence,” he said, looking away and then up at Newt. “An auror like Tina?”

Newt nodded but Theseus repeated, “Tina? Who’s that? Newt, have you finally gotten a girlfriend?”

“No,” Newt said pointedly, looking every bit like this was the last place he’d like to be. “She’s my friend and Credence’s cousin. She and her sister as well as a muggle gentleman are meeting us soon.”

Theseus frowned and turned back to Credence. “You don’t know what your cousin does?”

“I…I don’t keep track,” he stumbled, looking away again.

“Why are you here?” Newt asked.

“Someone has to help papa keep our mother sane,” Theseus scolded. “I asked you first, and you’re with company of all things. And expecting more? Are you truly Newt?”

He chuckled as he raked Newt’s hair off his eyes. Newt turned his head slightly but Theseus remarked, “Has maman seen your hair? It won’t be long before she finds her shears.”

Credence thought he still had half a pint left but he watched Theseus already swallow the last of it and take out his dark wooded wand to ignite a blue flame within it to give them more light. The barmaid came over and asked if he would like another beverage but Theseus refused. She did not look at Newt this time.

“I’m taking Credence to Hogwarts,” Newt replied, but Theseus was oddly silent. Credence could not read what passed between the brothers but Newt stood from the table, fastening his robe’s buttons. “I need to be getting back to my creatures.”

Credence felt similarly inclined to leave but Theseus followed them out and disapparated away. Newt exhaled as if he could finally breathe. Credence ventured, “You don't…you don’t like your brother?”

Newt would not look at him as they made their way to the road. “It’s not that I dislike him… It’s that we only seem to get along here,” he said eventually.

Silence enveloped them until Credence tried, “I have another sister…we didn’t get along.”

Newt gently turned back to him. “Do you wish you did?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “We never really talked, and she…ignored when ma…but Modesty defended me. She defended others. That was the only reason she was ever beaten— _hahh!”_

Credence jumped at the reappearance of Theseus behind them. Newt’s arm instinctively reached behind him, barring the threat from him.

“Newt, why haven’t you disapparated?” Theseus said with a quick glance at his arm. “Why are you still here?”

“Credence isn’t comfortable apparating,” Newt said, much to Credence’s astonishment. He had not even considered traveling by magic but Newt had gone that far with him in mind.

Theseus’s eyes landed on him, critical and examining. Credence could hear Tina’s words, _An adult wizard with literally no training is incredibly odd! Folks will get suspicious…_

But Theseus’s eyes moved back to Newt and he rolled his shoulders, physically as well as mentally settling on a decision. “All right, but it’s a long walk and you shouldn’t do it alone at night.”

“We’re not alone,” Newt reminded.

“No, but out of the three of us, I’m actually trained to walk alone at night,” Theseus countered. “Even more so when things are muckin’ about.”

He started across the gravel with the demand, “So tell me about these people you’re waiting on. You said one of them is a muggle?”

“His name is Jacob Kowalski,” Newt countered.

“And he knows about magic, I assume. He sounds Polish. Did you meet him in Europe?”

“No, I met him in a bank in New York.”

“A bank?” Theseus uttered dubiously. “Did you run out of money?”

“No, I dropped something,” Newt answered.

Theseus shot Newt a look. _“Inside_ the bank?”

When Newt made it clear he did not intend to respond Theseus switched to, “Speaking of muggles, I’ve been reading about a monk who recognized a pattern in hereditary attributes a few decades ago. Of course muggle technology is slow and is still some ways away from discovering the genetic code, but it’s nice to know the direction they’re taking. With their help we might come to understand what makes a squib versus a wizard. Then again, magic has always been an arbitrary trait. Ironic, how something so small can have such a big outcome. There’s also a German fellow making strides in physics. The theoretical kind, of course. Einburg…or was it Stein? Something like that.”

Credence was glad Theseus’s back was to him or else he would have had to explain his look of bewilderment. “Theoretical physics?”

“Yes,” Theseus smiled back at him. “Muggles have such large aspirations, don’t they? To understand the universe and all her secrets is the greatest pursuit for them. They're so passionate about it, it becomes quite like reading legends of gods and lore. It's more engaging than regular physics, since magic bends the rules muggles are otherwise forced to live by.”

Credence blinked, his eyes wide. Newt aided, “Theseus was the top of his class.”

“Do you study physics at Hogwarts?” he asked Newt worriedly.

“No,” Newt finally cracked a smile. “You will study charms and transfiguration, the history of magical peoples and the stars, defense against dark arts and hopefully after my book is published, magical creatures.”

“You said you transfigured your coat,” he remembered. “Is that…changing things into other things?”

“That’s right,” Newt’s features softened but they both looked at Theseus suddenly pointed his wand at the grass around them and unearthed a startled rabbit. He uttered something under his breath and the creature calmed enough for him to hold it in his arms.

_“Vera verto.”_

The creature seemed to curl in on itself with silver light and then Theseus held a glass goblet with etched designs like rabbit ears. Credence was both amazed and horrified as Theseus gave it to him to hold. “Doesn’t that hurt it?”

“It’s like going to sleep,” Theseus said, taking it back and transfiguring the rabbit into itself. The creature loped back into the underbrush as he elaborated, “After a time the magic wears off and the items revert to their original state. Who was the bloke who transfigured everything and forgot about it? When he died a museum had a whole lot of birds instead of a pottery exhibit.”

“I don’t recall,” Newt said. "History wasn't my preference."

"It was no one's preference," Theseus snorted. "Bloody class is taught by a ghost. You'd think that would make it more exciting."

"Ghost?" Credence uttered, horrified despite his interest. The topic of ghosts and furthermore the ones at Hogwarts helped their journey pass in relative ease.

When they arrived back at the sanctuary, however, Theseus took one look at the number of creatures in the meadow and then at Newt’s case still lying open on the grass. He only sighed and shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I know you said something about creatures, but…I didn’t see this, all right? I can’t arrest what I don’t see.”

He went into the house to greet his parents while Newt went into his case to make sure everyone was fed and comfortable before he came out to move the nests into the barn. “In you hop. It will be cold tonight—NO!”

Credence heard Newt shout the same moment a loud _BOOM_ came from the barn. A shower of dirt and dust rained from the stone as a great deal of squawking and hippogriff screeching was heard. Credence came around to the barn’s large sliding door only to face massive blue and violet feathers. “Newt?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” came the man’s voice, albeit tiredly. “I’ll just be sleeping in here tonight. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to get out to practice with you tonight.”

“It’s all right,” Credence said quietly. “Can I…can I do something?”

“Be sure to close the case once you’re inside it, please. Goodnight, Credence.”

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, returning to the case and doing just that. The niffler was in Newt’s tool chest again but followed Credence into his tent, sniffing the urns for anything metallic.

“It’s just me in here,” he scolded when the creature tried to climb the ivy’s plant stand. He tried to pluck the niffler’s scruff and carry it outside but the creature slipped through his hands and climbed over his arm to disappear inside his robe. Credence briefly tried to reach it but the creature had thoroughly stowed itself. Credence resolved to just take off his shoes and hang the robe on one of his hooks so the niffler could leave when it wished.

*******

The next morning Credence awoke to the creature still in his robe so he simply carried the bundle up the ladder to consult Newt—

Russel licked his face the moment he pushed the lid open. Credence’s back pressed against the confinements of the case but he managed to push the dog away enough for him to get out. The sun was still rising over the treetops as he made his way to the barn…

The occumy that had grown to fill the barn had relaxed enough for him to see inside the barn’s entrance. Newt slept against the coiled body of the occumy while its siblings were in various states on Newt’s person: tails dangled out of his pockets or they were on his neck, chest, and lap. The large occumy’s head was among the hippogriffs scattered around, sleeping close to one another for warmth.

“Newt? Uh…” Credence tried to say, but he did not want to wake him. He had never seen Newt sleep this long—

“NEWT!”

The man startled awake, rousing hippogriffs with him. Credence shuttered out of Mrs. Scamander’s path as she joined him beside the barn door. “Newt. Where is he?”

“Who?” Newt breathed, his eyes puffy with sleep.

“The _niffler,_ Newt! My watch is missing!”

“I-I have…” Credence tried to say, but her bright blue eyes landed on him, and his head lowered. Newt came to the barn door and climbed—more like fell over—the barrier that was the occumy’s body. Righting himself, he rubbed his sleeve across his nose before taking the bundle from Credence. The niffler looked out at Newt and wiggled fiercely before he gripped the small feet and flapped the creature like an old towel. Some galleons, brass buttons, and a copper spade fell out of its pouch but nothing else.

Newt held the creature to his chest as he groggily moved past his mother. “It must be in his burrow. I’ll get it.”

The niffler’s head looked over his shoulder, turning this way and that as Newt easily descended into his case. Credence was surprised Mrs. Scamander did not follow him inside, and as the moments dragged silently past, he wished she had.

Newt’s hand appeared first, a silver pocket watch on his palm. Charlotte visibly sighed with relief as she took it, but as the silver lid flicked open, it was not a clock face on it, but Newt’s smiling back at her. Credence gaped silently, watching the picture move like the ones on wizard newspapers and posters, but this one was colored as clock hands spun over it before landing on a glittering word: _Unknown._

“Newt, come out here,” she said. Newt climbed out of his case and came to follow her gaze to the clock face, which now read, _Home._

“Why do you have an incognito barrier on your case?” she asked pointedly.

“I have several enchantments on my case,” he answered.

She only sighed. “And I suppose each of them serves a purpose I would rather not know.”

She pressed the latch release button and Newt’s picture vanished to be replaced by Theseus’s portrait. The clock hands landed on _Home._

Charlotte glanced at Credence observing her watch, causing him to look down and come around to Newt’s other side.

“Maman, haven’t I told you to invest in a watch chain?” Theseus approached with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hands in his pockets.

Credence eyed the leather wand holster under his arm as Charlotte replied, “I don’t like chains, darling, you know this.”

“I don’t like spectacles, but they help me read,” he countered. Credence then noticed gold-rimmed glasses similar to Claude’s in Theseus’s front shirt pocket. He nodded back toward the house, “Breakfast is on, boys.”

Credence went with Newt inside, where Claude was pouring coffee out of a stovetop device. “Morning, all,” he welcomed. “Sit wherever you like and eat whatever you like. We have no shortages here.”

Theseus sat down and cast his spoon to mix his sugar with his coffee while Newt poured and stirred his tea himself. On the table were fried eggs, broccoli and cheese soufflés, a bowl of beans, another of baked tomatoes, and slices of toasted baguette next to chilled butter and jam.

“Where’s the bacon?” Theseus asked. “Sausage?”

“Why are you asking when you know the answer?” Charlotte countered.

Theseus frowned at her. “The war is over, mama, no one rations anymore. We can eat meat again.”

Her brows lifted skeptically as she helped herself to a soufflé. “If you’d like to kill the piglets you raised yourself then go right ahead. I daresay you’ll have a harder time of it if you want a steak.”

Theseus frowned at the cow sticking her head through the window to reach the carrots in the sink. Charlotte continued, “Anyhow, an animal goes further along when it’s alive than when it’s dead and eaten.”

Theseus sighed as he buttered his bread. “Margaret I understand, but you can’t very well milk the pigs. They are serving no purpose. I haven’t even seen the pigs. Where are they?”

“We’ve put them on the other side of the property,” Claude said as he sat on Credence’s other side. “They serve as better guard dogs than Russel. They may not be wild boars, but poachers don’t know that.”

“I thought there was a barrier…” Credence voiced quietly.

“To keep the animals from getting out,” Claude nodded, passing him the jam. “Usually it serves to keep witches and wizards from getting in as well, but the devious ones do arrive sometimes.”

Credence looked at Newt drinking his tea. He had not even noticed Newt opening any barriers for them. Theseus noticed where his eyes were and chuckled, “Of course Scamanders don’t count. The barrier was cast by us, it will open for us, and since you are the guest of a Scamander, you are welcome. Old magic, that.”

“What are you saying?” Charlotte simmered.

“You really need to stop being over sensitive about your age, mum,” Theseus chided. “People age. Frankly, it’s the only damn thing that unites us all.”

“If we’re lucky,” Newt said quietly.

Credence was finally into his first bite when Theseus’s fist landed on the table, causing their silverware to jump. “Why do you have to say that? Why do you always have to bloody say things no one wants to hear?”

Credence had no idea what to do. Part of his confusion was having such anger strangely not targeted at him, but he peeked at Newt, who was unreadable before he said murmured, “Merci pour le petit-déjeuner, papa.”

He quickly stood and left out the kitchen door. No sooner did the door shut, then Theseus’s chair skidded over the floor, the man leaving toward the front of the house.

Credence sat uncomfortably between Claude and Charlotte, both of whom were silent until the latter apologized softly, “The war may be over, but our sons still carry it. When you’re finished, would you be so kind as to bring Newt’s plate to him outside, Credence?”

He nodded mutely but he no longer had much of an appetite either. He lifted Newt’s untouched plate to carry outside but upon stepping out, it was only Russel waiting expectantly. The sight of the engorged occumy trying to fit into the case brought Credence over to it. The case sucked it in and its enchantments shrank the creature to its former size as Credence followed it inside.

Newt was on the grass with many of his hippogriffs, as well as the niffler who was waiting for his fish to cook. The red hippogriff was closest to him, but turned her head to watch Credence approach and set the plate down.

“Thank you, Credence,” Newt all but whispered, “though I can’t say I’m hungry anymore.”

Credence sat some distance away but ventured, “Mrs. Scamander said the two of you carry the war with you. What does that mean?”

It was a moment before Newt answered. “It means that during periods of intense stress, you develop habits for self-preservation…but when the period is over those habits remain. It means that while time moves forward for everyone else…for some individuals it stands still…. For those people it is very difficult to let new suns rise when you are stuck in yesterday’s memories.”

Even though Newt’s back was to him, Credence saw his hand disappear to wipe his face. “Alas, I’m afraid mine and Theseus’s disputes started without the war’s influence.”

He flipped the fish over to cook on the other side, much to the niffler’s dismay. “Please don’t take Theseus’s anger to heart, or as a sign of malevolence. As an auror, his job was to keep the wizard community hidden and out of the muggle’s war. Sometimes this meant fighting his own kind who _did_ want to be involved. When he couldn’t prevent the violence, he…cleaned up the mess. He’s known as a war hero for it…but just about everyone thinks of him as a hero except Theseus.”

Credence was quiet for a while. The niffler had his meal by the time he said, “Do you think of him as a hero?”

Newt sat rooted for another brief period of silence. “I did. Once. Not to say I think ill of him now, I just mean…things were very different when we were children.”

“Different how?”

Newt looked down, fiddling with something in his hands. “We’re two years apart. So he was my older brother but also close enough to be my friend. I followed him everywhere and he let me. More than let me, he woke me up at dawn to play wizards and dragons, and he kept me up late reading me stories or practicing little spells we were not ready to learn. That’s how I broke my mother’s wand. It liked him. It didn’t like me. I blew the wall out between our bedrooms just trying to light a candle. But I wasn’t afraid of maman’s wrath. I had my brother with me. I hadn’t any inclination to be afraid.

“Then he left for school and, as far as I knew, nothing changed. He left at the end of summer, came back for winter holiday, and then he came back again for summer. He was never gone for more than three months, though three months is a long time to a child. I was lonely but I wasn’t sad. Then it came to be my time to go off to school, and I thought I was the happiest person alive.”

Charlotte purred, lowering her head onto Newt’s thigh. He stroked in between her eyes as he continued, “Theseus grew up faster than me. I didn’t know how much until I was sorted into a different house than him. He was in Gryffindor. I was in Hufflepuff. Houses share classes so I was sure I would see him, but I didn’t know classes were divided by year. I understood that the school’s rules and divisions were what kept me from following him as I used to…but I never predicted Theseus would push me away himself.

“I spoke more when I was a child. I didn’t realize how much until I embarrassed him in front of his friends. They didn’t know he spoke French until I showed up. I didn’t know what social rules there were between boys trying to be men. I just wanted to be with my brother, because I had been led to believe that we were the same. I realized…quite late…that we weren’t. He was already in a…a place far away from me.”

Charlotte’s golden eyes were glossy as she blinked long and slow, close to dozing on Newt’s leg. Credence inhaled, thinking, and then sighed. “If he didn’t mean anything by it, why did you leave?”

Newt did not have a ready answer. “I haven’t been able to find my brother again.”

“But…” Credence’s brow furrowed. “Last night…he seemed to like you enough.”

“You understand my confusion over the years,” Newt said, turning his head enough for Credence to see him. “At school, my brother was a stranger to me, but in the time it took to get back here he would somehow become my brother again. I would lose him and then have him, and then I didn’t have him at all.”

He stood before Charlotte fell completely asleep on him and turned to Credence. “Would you like to practice? Now that I’m not held captive in the barn.”

Credence joined him in standing and over time, the tension dissipated. The hippogriffs slept around them apart from the rogue water bubble splashing into them or the occumies chasing the objects Credence successfully animated.

“Let’s review,” Newt said, procuring an empty cup. “You’re thirsty.”

 _“Aguamenti,”_ Credence said, filling the cup.

“What is the difference between _aguamenti_ and _aqua eructo?_ ”

“Both make water come out of your wand but the second can be used on water that already exists. And it’s violent.”

Newt laughed, “That’s right. It’s very useful in the case of an attack…unless of course something aquatic is attacking you but we’ll learn fire spells another day. Would you be so kind as to take this from me? The method can be your choice.”

 _“Alarte ascendare,”_ Credence said. The cup shot upwards out of Newt’s hand.

“Break it. Carefully.”

 _“Bombarda.”_ It shattered just as Credence quickly added, _“Arresto momento.”_ The pieces slowed against gravity until Newt gave his next command.

“But you’re thirsty again.”

_“Reparo.”_

Like time rewinding, the shards flew back toward one another. Fusing once more into a cup, the water found its place inside the vessel as Credence levitated it to his hand. Newt smiled softly, his hands in his pockets. “Beautifully done.”

“Indeed,” said another voice.

Theseus was standing near the scarabs, mirroring Newt with his hands in his pockets as he began to stroll toward them. “Have you taught him to transfigure things yet?”

Newt’s weight shifted. “No, I thought I would leave that to Professor Dumbledore.”

“Ah, I don’t think he would mind,” Theseus said. “Though I wouldn’t disagree that he is the best transfiguration professor to have. Frankly, Dumbledore could teach any old thing he liked and he’d be the best at it.”

“Not that he would say it,” Newt seconded.

Theseus chuckled. “No, he wouldn’t say it. The man might be brilliant and downright batty but he is uncharacteristically silent regarding his skill and achievements.”

He paused a moment and then said contemplatively, “You haven’t taught him how to duel.”

Credence frowned slightly, inspiring Theseus to step onto the grass as he explained, “The method you used to take the cup from him was adequate, sure, but when it comes to taking something against their will, better yet when they’re intent on fighting you, there is a spell much more convenient.”

“He doesn’t need this now,” Newt intercepted.

“He’ll need it sometime,” Theseus disagreed.

“If he’s lucky, you’ll be wrong,” Newt said darkly, leaving them to attend some chore elsewhere.

“Better to know the simple defense spells now,” Theseus challenged. “Have you forgotten how to duel?”

Newt paused. “No. I choose not to.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Theseus said with a taste of challenge in his voice. “Come on. I know you’d like to hit me with something. I won’t forgive you if you go easy on me.”

He left through the caravan, leaving Newt to sigh and reluctantly follow. Credence was not sure what a _duel_ was, but… Was he serious about letting Newt hit him? Credence thought this an odd way of apology as he too climbed out of the case.

Theseus was walking in a vast circle, marking its diameter with Newt inside. “I must ask you to not come near,” he said to Credence as he came to stand opposite Newt. As if sensing a disturbance, their parents came out of the house.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” Charlotte interrogated.

“Just giving Credence a demonstration,” Theseus said charmingly. “A duel is the best illustration of magical prowess.”

“No it isn’t,” Newt said begrudgingly.

Theseus lifted his brows. “No?”

“You’re calling violence an art form.”

“Sports are considered an art and most of them are violent,” Theseus argued.

“You’re only saying that because you were good at them.”

“Don’t use the past tense as if I’ve stopped being good,” Theseus scoffed indignantly. “And _you’re_ only saying that because you weren’t as good as me at quidditch.”

Credence heard a breath beside him and looked up at Claude saying, “Ah…this is more like it.”

He glanced at the brothers. “This is good?”

Claude looked at him with an expression Credence could not read. “They are together. This is good.”

“You were better at most things,” Newt snapped. “This is pointless.”

“If you are to defend that case from aurors like me, you ought to practice fighting one.”

“I don’t care what you do,” their mother intervened, “but if either of you spills the blood I gave you then you will have your own unique hell to pay.”

This gave both of them pause. Theseus turned to Newt. “Don’t get distracted, then.”

Holding his wand in front of is face, he swept into a bow. Newt exhaled audibly and bowed as well. They both rose and Theseus struck first. Newt easily deflected it with a translucent shield and sent back something similar. Theseus laughed as he deflected it and uttered, “Child’s play, Newtie. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Newt cast a jet of water at him but Theseus simply nocked it upward, leaving Newt open to attack. The burst of magic hit Newt in the torso, knocking him back and out of the circle where he landed on his front.

“Point for me,” Theseus sang.

Newt stood and used the time to remove his coat and jacket to catch his breath. Stepping back into the glowing white circle, they bowed once more. “Loser goes first,” Theseus prompted.

 _“Expelliarmus!”_ Newt uttered, but Theseus frowned and deflected it.

“Why would you speak aloud? That’s a rubbish tact—”

The grass at his feet engorged and bloomed around his ankles, winding and tightening around his legs. Distracted, Newt cast again, his brother’s wand flying from his hand and out of the circle.

“Oh,” Theseus said with a wicked grin. “Fine. One to one.”

He only had to hold out his hand for his wand to fly back to him. He burned through the foliage restraining him and sent the flames rushing over the grass at Newt. Out of Newt’s wand swam serpents of water, slithering and devouring the flames so he could cast his next attack. Back and forth it went until Newt fell on his back and Theseus disarmed him.

“Two to one.”

“How long does it usually go?” Credence asked Claude.

“Since this is a practice duel,” he said, “it depends. Usually the winning amount is decided upon before they begin. Since each round can be quite long, however, I reckon they’ll stop at five. However with these two…it’s hard to say.”

Theseus disarmed Newt again, bringing him two ahead. Birds flew out of Newt’s wand, obscuring Theseus’s vision so he could cast ice around him but Theseus was ready with his fire…

Newt’s determination washed from his features as being engulfed in flames became an imminent reality. Horror paled Theseus’s face as he lifted his wand to undo—

Newt threw his arm back as if he was readying to throw his wand, but the fire was pulled with it, and when Newt pitched forward as if to crack a whip, the fire transformed into arrows shooting back at his brother. Theseus recovered, holding his hands aloft to slow the flight of the arrows and flipped them to fly back toward Newt.

Credence’s gaze jerked at the red hippogriff charging out of the case and toward the duel. Charlotte screeched past her namesake and trampled Newt right out of the way of the arrows…

Newt apparated in front of her, but his hands arched in front of him around the arrows aimed for his chest. The arrows landed in a blurry veil and disapparated. Newt pointed his wand at the forest, where the arrows apparated once more, thudding in the tree trunks. Theseus was disarmed before he finished processing what had happened. For a long minute he just stood looking between the arrows and Newt calming the hippogriff before he erupted, “Where the hell has _that_ been? What was—where did you learn that?”

“That’s quite enough for one day,” their mother breathed, a hand rubbing her sternum.

“I agree,” Claude came to stand next to her. “The hippogriff is the real winner here. Good show, boys.”

The dueling circle disappeared as Newt tried to move the hippogriff away but as Theseus tried to approach his brother, the creature flapped her wings, feathers lifted in anger. Theseus sighed and gave her a bow, but she chuffed and trotted around Newt before he managed to shoo her away in time to be yanked down by his hand.

“Oh—Dougal?”

The grass pressed under invisible feet, Newt doubling over to be led back to the case by the creature. Theseus raked a hand through his hair. “I think I’ve made myself an enemy to everything in there… Mail’s here.”

Credence followed his gaze up to the horned owls emerging from the trees, but one of them dove right into Newt’s case. Credence blinked, “How does it know he’s in there?”

“Owls are keen,” Claude shrugged. “I suppose that’s why they’re used for the post.”

Suddenly the sky glinted with light, revealing the dome around them that was the barrier. Claude’s chin lifted appraisingly, while Theseus said, “Who’s arrived? You still only market the hippogriffs in the summer, don’t you?”

Newt emerged from the case, then, letter in hand. He glanced at the sky, already striding a little sideways to the path that led to the road. Credence jogged to join him. “Who is it?”

“I didn’t expect them for another week or two,” Newt said. “I was supposed to receive a letter before they left, not when—”

“Hi, honey!” Queenie called through the trees. She, Tina, and Jacob stood at the edge of the tree line and end of the road. “Credence, are you wearing wizard robes?”

“Wouldja mind letting us in?” Tina smiled.

“I thought we were meeting in London?” Newt questioned.

Tina laughed, “After the bar explosion, Madame Picquery was more eager for a vacation than we thought. Turns out there’s only one breeder of hippogriffs in England, and once we recognized the name on the place, we figured we’d spare an owl the trip. But we didn’t want to show up completely unannounced. Didn’t know we couldn’t even if we tried, though.”

“Heya, Newt—oh!” Jacob said, extending his hand. Newt took it and pulled him through the barrier, followed by Queenie and Tina. 

“You look good, Credence!” Jacob marveled. Credence brightened as Jacob grinned, “Go on, give us a spin.”

Queenie offered her hands. Credence took them but did not know what she intended until she moved around him, turning him so Jacob and Tina could admire his new robe.

“So this whole town is for wizards, huh?” Jacob said to Newt, but it was Claude who answered as he approached with his wife and eldest son.

“Not exclusively, but yes. I hope your journey wasn’t too arduous. I’m Claude Scamander.”

“Nice t’meet ya, I’m Jacob Kowalski. Call me Jacob. How are ya?” he said as he shook Charlotte’s hand.

“Newt, I didn’t know ya had a brother,” Queenie said as she released Theseus’s hand. “This is my sister, Tina.”

“Our interests have taken us into rather separate careers,” Theseus smiled.

Queenie’s shoulders bobbed as she chimed, “Teenie’s an auror too.”

Theseus’s head tilted slightly. “So I've heard, but I'm not wearing my badge without realizing it, am I?”

She shrugged again and smiled sweetly. “I work at MACUSA too. I have an eye for them.”

“BOWWOAH! BOWOWOWOAH!”

“Better late than never,” Claude laughed, stepping aside for Russel to sniff their luggage, particularly Jacob’s.

“Oh, I got some paczkis and a croissant in here. The bakery in town’s not bad,” Jacob said.

Claude chuckled but said, “Mine are better. Let’s get you all settled in.”

“Yeah? You cook?”

“My wife may be French but don’t ask her to cook,” he said with a smirk to Charlotte. However she seemed to have just noticed Newt’s hair.

“Darling, have you traveled with this? It’s atrocious,” she said, her fingers knuckle deep in his fringe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Credence get a little bit of a make over next time~


	13. Cheers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theseus decides to teach Credence something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a brave new world of hair, Credence.

“Let me,” Claude said, as Charlotte set Newt down in a kitchen chair. He gently took the shears from her with, “I am better with manual things.”

Charlotte sat at the table with the others as Theseus prepared a bag of ice for her hands. “Arthritis?” Queenie wondered with concern.

Charlotte only sighed with a shake of her head as she cast an enchantment on the small broom to sweep Newt’s hair as it fell. “I’m over eighty. You’d think I would have gotten it much sooner so I could have learned how to live with it.”

Tina and Queenie glanced at each other but Jacob was the one to blurt, _“Eighty?_ Uh-Ahem. You look great. Real great. Do…all witches look like you at eighty?”

Charlotte simply laughed and accepted the ice from Theseus. “If they have sons to make them age, perhaps not. What about you? Any magic users in your family that you know of? You might have a little extra to look forward to.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Jacob said. “Strong old grandma who refused to go until she was almost a hundred, though.”

Charlotte smiled. “That’s nothing to scoff at. And you, ladies?”

“We’re not sure how old they might’ve been,” Tina said.

“Our parents died of dragon pox when we were little,” Queenie added. Credence took his eyes off of Newt’s haircut as she said, “We’re orphans.”

Queenie’s eyes flicked to him, and she gave him a soft smile. He was able to hold her gaze until Newt stood and Claude offered, “Credence, would you like one? Your hair is almost over growing your eyes.”

Newt leaned far over the counter to reach out the window as Credence brushed his fingertips along the edge of his fringe. After some thought, he took Newt’s place. “Yes…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s no trouble,” Claude said, running his fingers over the hair on his nape. Newt caught his case and carefully pulled it through the window to set it on the counter. “This was shaved before. Do you want it shaved again?”

“He doesn’t,” Charlotte intercepted as Newt set various things on the counter.

Claude laughed, “And you, Credence? What would you like?”

He peeked up at Newt’s now shorter hair; it was not unlike what he had originally but it rested pleasantly above his eyebrows. “I’d like it to grow out.”

He blinked as Claude moved a comb through his fringe. “I’ll trim the rest so it grows more evenly.”

Credence did not expect for the cut to be as calming as it was, but Claude’s hands were gentle and sure. At the counter, Newt was juicing an ingredient to add to a cream he separated from the rest of the jar. Once he sat at the table, Newt silently requested one of his mother’s hands; she turned fully to face him. Gently holding it by her wrist, he spread the cream across her forearm and hand, creating friction for warmth before he pressed deeply into the flesh of her arm. He reached back to the counter briefly to pluck a handful of hair-thin needs out of a small leather-bound case, placing them in the left over juice.

Theseus stood against the counter, watching the proceedings mutely as Newt carefully massaged Charlotte’s hand, taking care around the knuckles.

“Ah!” she coughed as he held the ulna and radius, slowly wiggling her hand so a series of pops came from the fine bones in her wrist. He peeked up at her as she recovered. “What is that balm?” she breathed.

He smirked slightly. “When it’s not diluted, it is known to melt muscular tissue. Diluted with the right ingredients, it is a powerful relaxing agent for muscles and joints.”

“It’s warm,” Charlotte hummed. “What’s on the counter?”

“An antiseptic herb. I want to help the blood flow before I insert the needles.”

She lifted a brow but seemed far from perturbed. Theseus said, “That sounds like Chinese medicine.”

“It is,” Newt said as he tapped his wand on her shoulder, elbow, and then hand. Her arm levitated in the air. “I forgot I had them, but a physician in America reminded me of them. His needles were much larger.”

Charlotte chuckled and watched him place the first needle on the front of her arm, over her elbow. “Am I supposed to feel them?” she asked as he placed more needles methodically on her forearm and along the artery of her thumb.

“Not necessarily,” he said. “They’re supposed to open key areas for your body to take care of itself, not injure.”

He leaned over so he could place the final needles in her palm and then moved to her other arm, repeating the process. Credence felt Claude pull his fingers through his hair, combing the hair back before it fell back over his forehead. He tapped the crown of his head as he said, "Try moving your hair around some days. If you always pull it from this point, you'll lose hair here eventually."

Credence reached back to feel his crown as Tina laughed, "That's not true."

"Haven't lost my hair yet," he smiled, ruffling his own hair so the curls stood up like his sons'. Setting the scissors on the table, he brushed a hand over Credence's shoulder. "You're done, and you can style it however you like, of course."

"If you ever want some help, I'd be happy to show ya," Queenie offered.

Credence thoughtfully moved his fingers over his hair as he watched Newt massage Charlotte's slim fingers. Being her dominant arm, he placed a few more needles and then began to clean and put away his items.

“I just wait?” she asked.

“Initially, yes. A gentle current of electricity or magic can enhance the effects, but little steps.”

“I don’t do anything in half measures, _mon oisillon,”_ she said fondly.

Newt gave her a look and sat back down. He took a moment to align his fingertips to hers and took a deep breath with his eyes closed. Slowly, one by one, the needles began to wiggle ever so slightly.

They sat like this for roughly ten minutes, meanwhile a silver head lifted out of the case. “Hi, Dougal,” Queenie sang. His large brown eyes found her and Jacob as he made a small sound of recognition. He climbed out of the case and under the kitchen table to them.

Newt gently removed his fingers and one by one returned the needles to the antiseptic fluid. Theseus stepped forward to undo the levitation and helped his mother to stand. “How do they feel?”

Slowly, she spread her fingers, flexing them before she moved them like the spines of a fan. “Much better,” she smiled, her eyes lifting toward Newt’s back as he wiped off the needles and set his items back in the case. She hugged him around his middle, her chin resting on his shoulder. She glanced at Credence as his eyes widened and hastily looked away.

Claude put away the scissors and offered, “There are more trees and feathers than anything, but would you like a tour?”

"Sure!" Queenie sang as she and her sister stood.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Jacob said with Dougal on his back. “Credence, do ya have a favorite, yet? Creature, I mean,” he asked on their way out. Russel led the way out the kitchen door, tail high and wagging. The only people left were Newt, Charlotte, and Theseus.

“They seem like nice people,” she hummed behind Newt. “Credence is a little stiff.”

“Where did you find him?” Theseus agreed.

“Tina did. In a muggle orphanage.”

The air Theseus blew through his lips was answer enough. Charlotte leaned into Newt to peek out of the window. “He’s a handsome young man…when he isn’t flinching from everything little thing.”

“Be gentle with him,” Newt begged softly. “He’s more anxious around headstrong women.”

“Really? I get aroused,” Theseus said dryly.

“He’s still discovering the difference between a strong head and a strong hand,” Newt countered.

“Oh…” Charlotte uttered, understanding. She leaned once more on Newt’s shoulder.

“But Tina found him because she is an auror, not because they’re his cousins,” Theseus clarified.

“They might as well be,” Newt challenged.

“I agree,” Charlotte declared, releasing Newt. He closed his case and went to return it outside. Charlotte rounded on her eldest. “And considering they’re the first friends he’s ever brought home, if you scare them away, you and I will have a duel of our own.”

 _“Me?”_ he gaped. “Scare who?”

“You heard me, Theseus,” she warned.

“The only one likely to run away is Newt,” he defended.

“Not from _us,”_ she murmured, gazing out the window. “Not anymore.”

*******

Dinner was an animated affair with Jacob joining Claude as host. Between the two of them the table was overflowing and Charlotte emerged from the basement with three bottles of wine which she emptied into carafes to breathe before she went around filling glasses. “Credence? Would you like a taste?”

She had filled the Goldsteins’ glasses by the time he answered. “Maybe…a-a little.”

Newt took the pitcher of water and filled most of Credence’s glass while Charlotte topped it off with a semi-sweet white. “Newt?”

“No, thank you, I…” His fingertips rotated his glass as he thought about it. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

She filled his cup, stroking his hair in passing. Credence watched Newt take a sip and followed suit, only to shiver as the wine washed over his pallet and down his throat. Some of the others chuckled around him, Charlotte offering, “If it’s not to your taste, you needn’t drink it, dear.”

He glanced at her and said, “It’s not bad, but I’m not used to it. It’s warm like fire whiskey.”

“You’ve had fire whiskey?” Theseus asked.

“Newt gave me chocolate with it,” Credence defended.

“Oh, so you’ve developed a tolerance?” he said toward Newt. “The first time we stole a bar from maman’s sweets drawer, he had a fever all night. I thought I’d killed him.”

 _“First_ time?” Charlotte raised a brow. Theseus only chuckled as he sipped his red. Credence took another sip, and it went down a little easier. He felt the heat in the back of his throat as well as the bloom in his cheeks.

“How’s the book coming, Newt?” Tina asked.

Newt shifted in his seat. “It’s coming…I received my third draft with the editor’s notes recently.”

“Third? What don’t they like about it?” Jacob asked.

Newt shook his head as he swallowed. “I seem to write too much or too little, they think.”

“You said you wanted it to be used for classes on magical creatures, right?” Theseus recalled.

“I thought I had made it approachable for children but I’ve been told I wrote too much,” Newt said.

Theseus smirked softly. “Not everyone is as interested in magical creatures as you were at their age.”

“But when I give a minimal introduction to a creature, I’m told it’s not educational enough. I want to make an informative book, not a survival guide. I want people to understand that one’s first reaction to something new shouldn’t be to kill it.”

“Then make it,” Claude said as he passed the potatoes to Tina. “There’s no point putting your name on something you’re not proud of.”

“And who’s to say you only have one chance to write a book?” Charlotte encouraged. “The best way to educate people is to do it while they’re young. This first book is for children, but when they grow up, they will need more information and they will know to seek your second.”

“The publisher likely knows a student’s sole concern is passing their exam,” Tina added. “It’s your job to help them do that. You have to deliver the information in an easy, memorable way. If you do that well enough, they’ll remember it well after the exam, and you will have succeeded in helping the creatures too.”

Newt blinked, his eyes soft as he processed what they had given him. Claude smiled, “Speaking of school, do you have an area you’d like to study, Credence?”

He had caught Credence with his mouth full. Shaking his head as he quickly swallowed, he answered, “I want to learn everything.”

Theseus refilled his glass as he said, “Over the course of years, you could, but usually at the end of school we have to select a specific area in order to prepare for a career.”

“A career?” Credence uttered. He had not thought that far.

“Yeah!” Queenie smiled. “Teenie and I work for MACUSA, but you could do anything you wanted!”

“Do you have any interests you’d like to explore?” Charlotte agreed.

Credence’s lips parted as he recalled a memory. “I visited a newspaper office once.”

“Journalism?” Claude said, intrigued.

“For the love of everything, don’t work for the _Daily Prophet,”_ Theseus declared.

Charlotte laughed and touched Credence’s wrist. “As an auror, Theseus has to deal with journalists prying into the Ministry’s business.”

“I don’t know about journalism…” Credence admitted, “but it seemed exciting. To work on something and have it published.”

“There are quite a few jobs in a publishing office apart from journalism,” Claude provided and then he looked at Newt. “If you want to try editorial work, why not take a look at Newt’s manuscripts?”

Newt perked up as he elaborated, “As a student yourself, you might be a good resource for him. You’ll be able to help Newt find the happy medium he is looking for.”

“That sounds like a swell idea,” Queenie agreed among other comments and sounds of approval around the table.

Newt looked at Credence. “Would you? It’s up to you.”

Credence gave it some thought and lowered his chin to nod when Charlotte asked, “What is that?” The table fell silent as they stopped eating to listen.

Almost immediately, Newt stood and looked out the window. “My erumpent. She’s in season.”

“Again? That’s a little soon, isn’t it?” Jacob asked.

“Erumpent heats are frequent but brief. Ideally she would mate within forty-eight hours. I’ll need to keep her in my case to keep her safe.”

He left out of the door, but when Credence began to stand to follow, Jacob reached over the table to touch the back of his hand. “This is somethin’ he’s better at doin’ alone. Trust me.”

Credence sat back down with a look at the others. “What does he have to do?”

Jacob initially looked reluctant to tell him, but then he met Credence’s gaze with an expression he could not read. “I don’ see any harm in watchin’. Just don’ get in the way unless you feel like running.”

But a strange call like, “RAAEEEEEEH!” lifted everyone from the table. Standing far off by the trees, the erumpent’s horn was aglow with fluid as she turned toward Newt in a semi-crouched position.

“Is he…” Tina realized. _“That’s_ how he got the erumpent back?”

“Shh,” Jacob hushed as Newt dragged his foot over the grass and stomped, pushing air through his nostrils in a loud chuff. Hopping to the side, he snorted at the erumpent, bending his knee so his derriere rotated enticingly in the air. Queenie’s hand flew over her mouth to stifle her giggles as Newt took wide steps and hops, each time displaying his rear. The erumpent blew fluid out of her horn as she took a step toward him…

And Credence, wide eyed and a mixture of confusion and bubbly shock, burst with laughter.

Newt’s attention jerked around just as Tina, Queenie, and Jacob’s did, stunned into silence at the foreign sound. And he couldn’t stop it as the laughter pealed out of him. In the meadow a grin bloomed on Newt’s face, and he took another step with a loud snort which only drew more giggles and laughter from Credence. Jacob joined him and slowly did the others as Newt fell into a roll across the grass. The ground trembled with the erumpent’s weight, but she too rolled, and over the open case, she was sucked within for Newt to snap it closed.

The others applauded as he bashfully bowed and on a much lighter note, they returned to dinner.

*******

“Credence, would you like to learn defensive spells?” Theseus asked the next day.

Credence, caught off guard as he swallowed the last of his French toast, did not readily answer. The kitchen was empty apart for them and Jacob; the others having left to help the other Scamanders with morning chores around the property.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Jacob intercepted. “Newt’s been handling that sort a’thing. Maybe it’s best to let him take care of that.”

“He hasn’t taught him defensive magic yet,” Theseus kindly disagreed. “And better sooner than later is the time to learn. Do you want to?”

Credence nodded and Theseus rummaged in a cabinet for a clear potion, which he took outside. Pouring some drops onto the grass, with his wand he enchanted the rapidly growing flora to tie itself roughly into the shape of a man. From the house rolled plates which he equipped in the dummy’s hand in place of a wand.

“This will be our practice target. Now, the easiest spell to know, and certainly the most useful, is how to disarm the person. After me.”

Credence stood a ways away as he demonstrated, _"Expelliarmus!"_ A shot of red light came from his wand and hit the grass dummy. The plate flew out of its green fingers to land behind Theseus as another saucer took its place.

“There aren’t any fancy movements with your wand,” Theseus narrated as Credence came to stand in his place. Jacob nervously looked around them. “Just point and say it.”

Credence did, and tried, _“Expelliarmus,”_ but instead of disarming the target, the saucer shattered.

Before the pieces could land, Theseus repaired them and said, “Your aim is good, but breaking the opponent’s wand may cause it to backfire and damage everyone involved. Better to disarm. A wand without a wielder is harmful to no one. Try again.”

“I didn’t mean to break it,” Credence murmured.

“I’m not saying you did. These things happen,” Theseus assured. “Give it another go.”

He did, but his aim was off and his magic flew past the grassy arm to land against a tree. He heard Theseus inhale. “Perhaps it’s not as easy as I remember. Try to relax.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Credence said quietly, and all but whispered, “Newt’s better at this.”

Theseus blinked. “Is he?” he uttered, not so much offended as he was bewildered. “All right, then.”

Suddenly a blast of silver light came from his wand in the shape of a wolf. It loped to the trees and disappeared within the forest. Moments later, Newt and Russel came back in its place. “What is it?”

“How would you teach him the disarming charm?” Theseus made by way of explanation.

“What?” he said, and then assessed the state they were in. “Now is not the time—”

“When is, then?” his brother challenged. “You don’t want him to be able to protect himself?”

“When someone is determined to cause harm, they will do it in any way they can,” Newt simmered. “And likewise, a small spell can do a great deal when it is used in the right way. I haven’t taught him nothing.”

Theseus sighed. “Just do this for me. It will give me peace of mind if the person traveling with my brother knows this much.”

“I’d like to remind everyone that Tina and Queenie aren’t exactly push overs,” Jacob chimed stiffly.

“I don’t doubt it,” Theseus appeased. “But if Credence wishes to know everything, this is it. It starts here.”

Jacob shrugged an apology to Newt, who silently pressed his lips together. Taking a deep breath, he stepped in front of the target and asked. “What troubles are you having?”

Credence glanced at Theseus taking a step back to give them room and said, “I break the plate or I can’t hit it.”

Newt peeked behind him at the dummy and explained, “Any burst of magic hitting a person’s hand can knock their wand from their grip. What _expelliarmus_ does, is it allows you to not depend on any keen sort of aiming ability. You need only aim for the person, who is thankfully a much larger target. The spell breaks their grip on their wand for you. This can be enough to stop someone from attacking you, and when you are in such a situation, your priority shouldn’t be about beating them. I only ever want you to do what it takes to get away, do you understand?”

Credence swallowed thickly, and nodded. Newt continued, “When it’s done well, the wand will not only fly from your opponent’s hand, it will come to you if you would like to catch it. Practice on me.”

“Uh—Newt, I don’t think,” Jacob interrupted the same time Credence vehemently shook his head.

“I don’t want to. I’ll hurt you.”

He smiled softly. “I don’t think you will. _Expelliarmus_ is not an offensive spell, and you do not want to hurt me. Your wand cannot do what you do not want it to. I’ve trusted you this far, Credence. I’ll trust you some more.”

He withdrew his wand from his belt holster and simply stood for Credence to decide. Shakily lifting his wand, Credence’s mind was filled with _don’thurthim pleasedon’thurthim don’thurthim don’thurthim…_

_“Expelliarmus.”_

Red flew from his wand and hit Newt square in the chest. A hush of air came from him as he pushed air from his lungs to cushion the spell’s collision. It rocked him back a step as the light found his wand arm, and the length of wood sprang from his land to land on the grass between them. It was remarkably anticlimactic.

Credence did not realize he was gaping until the breath he was holding rushed out of him. Newt smiled and bent to retrieve his wand as Theseus tilted his head to the side. “Interesting…I’ve never seen the spell with as much force as that.”

Credence stared at him. “What?”

Theseus only spared him a glance and silently sent a red spell no larger than a dragonfly at Newt. His wand flicked out of his hand to arc through the air, leaving a deadpan Newt on the grass with empty hands. Theseus caught his wand and approached. “What is your wand?”

Credence anxiously looked down at it. “Driftwood and serpent horn.”

Theseus’s brows jumped on his face, visibly looking at Credence in a new light. “All right, then,” he uttered.

To Newt he handed back the wand as Newt asked, “Do you remember what I cast in Knockturn Alley?”

“Petrificus…” Credence recalled.

“Totalus,” Newt finished. “It’s a full body bind, if you find that disarming is not enough. You remember the swish and flick?”

Credence nodded. Newt looked over his shoulder at the dummy and cast, _“Petrificus totalus,”_ in time with his movement. The grassy arms snapped to its sides and the whole column bent over to show a person falling over.

Tina and Queenie emerged from the barn as Credence tried himself, the dummy successfully flattening to the ground, albeit because the grass was severed. “What are you guys doing?” Tina asked.

“Just learning self defense,” Theseus replied. He read Tina’s features and guessed, “You didn’t know Newt was teaching Credence things?”

She rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m not surprised. But that’s not the wand you had at Ilvermorny.”

She and Queenie approached for a better look as Credence explained, “I was practicing and the wood broke apart. Mr. Ollivander found a wood that would adapt to me.”

“Mr. Ollivander?” Queenie said, and then smiled. “Oh, he seems real nice.”

“Are you a legilimens?” Theseus observed.

Queenie’s smile faded as she nodded. “That depends. I heard Brits keep a registry of legilimens.”

But Theseus only smiled and shook his head. “I’m blind as far as you lot are concerned. I don’t work on my days off.”

Queenie’s smile returned. “You’re not half bad, Mr. Scamander.”

Theseus waved over his shoulder as he strolled back toward the house, but paused as Claude came out to meet them. “It seems with the influx of hippogriffs, we’ll be needing some more food around here. Luckily, with so many hands, it should be an easy trip, if you’re willing. Any volunteers to go into town?”

“Sure!” Queenie said.

“I don’t mind,” Tina seconded.

Jacob sniffed and nodded. “A walk sounds good.”

“We might as well make dinner out of it,” Theseus decided. “Rendezvous around four? We should be ready for the pub around six.”

They agreed and went their separate ways, Credence following Newt to the barn. “I thought the hippogriffs would eat what they caught themselves. The foxes on the posts…”

“The adult ones can,” Newt agreed, “but a number of foals are going to be born come spring, and if we were to let the adults hunt for two, then there wouldn’t be much wildlife left. This is good, though. My sweeping evil has almost finished off the cow brains I got for him, the glutton.”

“Sweeping evil?” Jacob said behind them. “Why does that name ring a bell?”

Newt glanced at him and then winked at Credence. With a flick of his wrist, the green cocoon bloomed with blue fringe, the evil flapping its wings but only in front of Jacob as Newt kept a firm hold of its thin feet. Jacob’s back landed on the barn doorway as he recovered himself and the creature folded back against Newt’s wrist.

“Oh,” he gulped. “That. Yeah, I remember that. Oh, you think this is funny?”

Credence giggled with Newt, who assured, “Only because he’s harmless. You’re a wonderful sport, Jacob.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he scoffed.

*******

“What happened during the duel?” Credence asked as they stepped into the pub. “Why was Theseus surprised?”

Newt opened his mouth to speak but Theseus was the one who answered as they gathered around an available table. “He transfigured my magic. It’s a rather old tactic of dueling, not often used because it is also rather difficult. Think of transfiguration as the physics of the magical world. Understanding the laws of nature, only instead it’s understanding the threading of magic and…reweaving it into another spell entirely.”

“We missed a duel?” Queenie asked.

“Right before you arrived,” Theseus chuckled, letting his robe fall over the back of his chair. “Anyways, Newt also made a…space of apparition. The magic is usually dependent on something, a port key or a person. Something is being transported, yeah? But to just make a vacuum where whatever enters it is transported…I’m still waiting to know where you learned that.”

“It seems quail is the menu tonight,” Newt disregarded, looking around them at the other tables while Theseus went to the bar. “I hope they have the eggs. With a bit of salt, those are quite lovely.”

“What about…” Credence began before he leaned closer. Newt observed this and tilted his head to hear. “What about when you fought Grindelwald?”

“Oh,” Newt understood. “I’m afraid that was more of a test of brute strength, which he far exceeds me in.”

“Are there any wizard drinks you all would recommend?” Jacob asked. “Or is fire whiskey your only export?”

Newt flashed a smile and stood to go to the bar with him once he knew what Credence wanted to eat and ordered for him.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Queenie said when Jacob returned with a beer for himself and a pimm’s cup for her. When their dinner arrived, the quail and eggs were served with roasted asparagus, boiled potatoes, and salty slices of fried turnip crisps. When the barmaid came by to take their plates and ask for refills she noticed Newt drawing on a napkin to help answer Credence’s question as to how a person could ride on a hippogriff.

“Wow, you’re like an artist, huh?” she smiled. Newt perked up as she tilted her head to sea the drawing better. “Riding on a hippogriff? I was always told they didn’t like that.”

“They don’t,” Newt agreed and explained, “at least, without the proper encouragement. Most wizards don’t know where to sit on them, thinking they’ll behave like horses. They certainly won’t take to a saddle and a bridle is out of the question. And then what to hold onto is another matter. A hippogriff actually has subtle nerve endings along the spine of each feather, making their feathers very delicate and sensitive, so holding onto them will risk pulling them out—”

“Newt,” Theseus interrupted. “You’re doing it again.”

Credence looked up at the maid to see her curiosity had vanished along time ago, but it was the light fading from Newt’s eyes and him jerkily looking down that concerned Credence more. “So what do you hold onto?” he pushed as the maid quickly left their table.

Newt chewed on his lip, not looking at him. “Nothing. Nothing.”

“I wanna know,” Jacob intercepted, followed by sounds of agreement from Queenie and Tina. “I thought hippogriffs were just a thing in mythology but now I hear you can actually ride on ‘em? That’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Queenie agreed. “Keep goin’. We don’t have hippogriffs in America—well, except for the smuggled ones.”

“What should you hold onto if their feathers are too delicate?” Tina reiterated. Theseus looked between them and leaned back in his seat, simply observing.

Newt peeked up at them, blinking as he inhaled. “The skin…on their nape. It’s not unlike a cat or dog’s scruff. It’s enough to hold onto without hurting them.”

Tina leaned her elbows on the table, intrigued. “But how would you control them? How do they know where to fly?”

“Well, they d—” Newt began but his attention lowered to his pocket.

“What is it?” Tina asked.

“Nothing…” Newt puzzled. “I just thought…I thought I’d felt my pocket move—”

“Newt,” Credence said, his head turned toward the table behind him. “Is that one yours?”

He, Newt, and Tina collectively turned to find a niffler scooping coins out of a robe handing over a chair. It’s onyx eyes darted to Newt before he rushed under the table and out of sight.

Tina moved as if to rise from their table but Newt touched her arm. “No, we can’t bring attention to him.”

“Why not? He’ll rob everyone in here,” she exclaimed.

“This isn’t like the no-maj bank,” Newt quickly explained. “People here know about nifflers. Vaguely.”

“Vaguely?” Queenie wondered as his head jerked to his left, where the coats by the door seemed to be jiggling on their own. Newt abruptly stood from his seat, sliding along the pub’s wall toward the front door, but no sooner did her get there then the niffler rushed under the tables. Newt followed at a slower pace, trying to remain among the waiting patrons at the bar while his hand lingered on his waistcoat so he could draw his wand.

The niffler remained under furniture as if knowing this. Newt glanced at Tina standing from the table, but shook his head. If too many people were noticed standing around the pub, it would raise suspicion…

The barkeep opened his cash register, and the niffler’s silver-flecked head appeared from under a witch’s chair. It looked at Newt, whose eyes widened in warning, but the catch was too desirable to miss. Newt drew his wand but the niffler was already gone, rushing between patrons’ feet and behind the bar, where the barkeep proved to keep a steady eye on his—

“CATCH THAT BLOODY NIFF!”

“No! Please!” Newt tried to announce, but people were quick to see the flash of gleaming black fur evading the thick fingers reaching for it. Checking their own pockets, angry cries resounded in the pub as people realized they were missing gold or jewels. Suddenly everyone was standing and knocking into Newt as they tried to catch the creature. Chairs were upturned, even tables knocked over as the niffler slithered between groping hands and stomping feet, but the carnage led a path for Newt to follow. 

“No! Please, don’t hurt him!” Newt cried as someone managed to land a kick on the niffler but only coins fell from its pouch as he continued along. “No! Stop! Don’t you understand? He’s running because you’re grabbing him!”

An elbow in his belly made him stop for breath while round and around the pub they went until the niffler could only go back behind the bar. Climbing onto the wood and racing past the taps, he went, until the barkeep thoroughly smashed his large palm on the niffler’s neck.

Newt stumbled forward, “Please, give him to me.”

“You out a’your gob? This rat took who knows how much from my register.”

“My galleons too!” cried another person.

“My watch!”

“My watch’s ruby!”

“My ring!”

The niffler was squirming desperately. “Please, let go!” Newt cried. “He can’t breathe!”

“Then you shouldn’t have brought him in here,” the barkeep growled, wrenching the creature up by its neck…

 _“IMMOBILUS!”_ Newt ordered, and a shock wave burst from his wand. Even though it hit the barkeep right in the sternum, the entire pub was statuesque apart from Theseus quickly shielding their table.

Newt breathed heavily as the barkeep stared at him. The niffler, somehow invulnerable to the charm, slipped out of his grip and launched itself at Newt’s chest, where it buried itself within the safety of Newt’s high collared robe with a weak, trembling sound. “No one touches him like that,” he murmured, clutching the niffler close.

A moment passed before he realized he still held his wand aloft. Lowering it, his step clipped over the wood floors as he made his way to the door. Theseus slowly stood and undid the freezing charm. “All right, ladies and gents, let’s just go back to a pleasant evening, yeah?”

However as people were sucking in air from having their lungs paralyzed, someone else punched Newt in the nose.

“Oawph!” he cried, falling to the floor the same moment Credence shot to his feet. He took a step toward Newt but one of the thick beams overhead snapped, not enough to fall but enough to rain splinters over his head.

Theseus was quicker.

“Give us back what you stole, you freak!” the man cried. Credence winced but the man was silenced as Theseus recast the freezing charm over the pub.

“Newt had the right idea with this. So let’s talk.”

Tina and Jacob helped Newt to his feet as Theseus came around to face the now terrified man. Theseus’s eyes gave him a once over before he remarked, “You’re not from here. I know this because you do not know me, whereas everyone else here knows I am an auror, not to mention a damn good one. But let’s just set that aside to consider what a fine grave you’ve dug for yourself.”

Theseus stepped close so the man could clearly see him counting with his fingers. “Yes, you’ve had some baubles and trinkets stolen from you. That’s no excuse to hit someone. But not only have you hit someone, you’ve done it in full view of an auror, in full view of a pub of witnesses—as if my word wasn’t enough in a Ministry hearing, and I assure you, it means _a great deal_ —and last but not least: you two-fold hit that auror’s brother and insulted him. So the part where you _cocked it up_ wasn’t necessarily in breaking a law…it was the moment you broke a Scamander’s nose. And now a number of people have already fainted because I had to give you this lecture.”

With a flick of his wand, the enchantment faded, and various _thuds,_ were heard as people collapsed, including the man doubling over to suck in air. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“Theseus…please,” Newt said quietly from where he leaned on the door, his voice thick as he used Queenie’s handkerchief to catch blood dripping from his nose.

“Cheers,” Theseus finished, flicking a sickle onto the bar as they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, not everything I wanted, but I'm pleased and already am a good way into the next chapter so HOPEFULLY you'll get that soon <3 Also, don't pop the fingers of someone with arthritis *_* it's literally the inflammation of joints so don't be that asshole.
> 
> "Oisillon" means 'little bird'.
> 
> Cheers~


	14. Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Theseus have a long conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy vay, sorry for the delay, guys. I took some mental health days, then Game of Thrones happened, and then I got an art commission *_* but voila! A special long one for you u_u

The pavement of the town glistened in the night before the gravel road crunched under their feet. Newt walked with Credence and Queenie on either side of him, the latter cleaning and casting a cold charm over the handkerchief before she gave it back to him. The niffler had not moved from his chest, its silver head trembling in the crook of Newt’s neck.

Jacob blew air between his lips. “You okay, Newt? I’m assuming you got somethin’ to fix your nose…”

Newt nodded once and said over his shoulder, “Thank you, Jacob.”

“You’re welcome. I only wish I coulda hit the guy back.”

“Is the niffler okay?” Tina asked.

“He’s in shock,” Newt said softly. “He’ll be alright…with time.”

“You know, I’ve been wonderin’,” Jacob voiced, “why you bother when he gets out all the time?”

Theseus was sauntering with his hands in his robe pockets on Queenie’s other side as he said, “I’ve only ever seen nifflers when I was breaking up gambling pits.”

The question was there, and the others fell quiet as they waited for Newt to answer it. His chin ducked within his lifted collar to check on the niffler. Credence saw his fingers stroke the speckling of silver feathers as he said, “Nifflers usually live fifteen years. Twenty, if they’re healthy, but they don’t grow silver feathers until they’re at least twelve years old…my niffler is three. Maybe four, I can’t be sure…I did find him in a gambling pit.”

For Credence and Jacob’s sake he explained, “Muggles use male chickens or dogs to fight and win money for them, but wizards sometimes use nifflers…and this particular wizard had developed a game. Participants would place their betting money within the ring, and the niffler would try to collect as much of it as he could, all while they tried to catch him. If they were able to do it, they won whatever was in his pouch. The wizard who owned him had gathered quite a reputation for himself. That’s how I heard of him. When I descended into the cellar and observed the goings on…”

He paused to wipe his nose. “Nifflers are attracted to shiny things, but only because their natural food is a fish with particularly bright scales. The way this wizard had gained his fortune was by starving the niffler, in so training it to collect as many shiny things as it possibly could. After all the bets were in his pouch and no one had caught him, the money was his.”

“That’s awful,” Queenie whispered.

Newt’s eyes were wet as he finished, “I knew he was starving the moment I saw him. So…instead of reaching for him, I held a slice of fish in my hand. He came right to me. Not long after, I discovered his starvation had developed into an addiction. Nifflers don’t usually act this way. Progress has been slow, but he is improving.”

Pickett had emerged from his robe, his leaves bobbing as he looked up at Newt’s face. His twittering and bubbly high-pitched voice sounded strained as he moved the handkerchief out of the way to inspect the damage done to Newt. Theseus sighed, “A niffler and a bowtruckle. Newt, are you aware of how much like a criminal you look?”

But Newt was otherwise distracted by Pickett reaching right into his nose. “Pickett, please don’t—Nn!”

Credence blinked at the wet pop and crunch of the bowtruckle putting Newt’s septum back to rights. Pickett made a disgusted sound as a fresh trickle of blood gushed from his nose.

“Mum has some skelegrow,” Theseus assured. “A sip of that will finish the job. By any chance, was it the niffler you dropped at the bank?”

“Yes,” Newt, Tina, and Jacob answered together.

Theseus looked at them. “Oh?”

Tina narrated, “The niffler got out of Newt’s case. It just so happened to be the bank the Second Salemers were meeting.”

She met Credence’s look and smiled softly. “I had already lost my job for attacking their leader. I shouldn't have been there but...I guess it was a good thing I was anyway.”

“Nasty business, witch hunters,” Theseus commented. “Didn’t stop you from catching my brother, eh?”

Tina huffed a laugh. “Sure, but not before he already had Jacob involved.”

“Ah, yeah,” Jacob laughed. “I was there tryin’ t’get a loan for my bakery. Newt dropped an occumy egg and the niffler was robbin’ the bank.”

Theseus’s step faltered and he looked at Newt pointedly. “It was an accident,” he said weakly.

Theseus sighed raggedly and rubbed his eyes. “Would you all mind going on ahead? I would like to speak to my brother alone.”

“If you’re just going to scold me, Tina does a good enough job of it,” Newt declined.

“Thanks,” Tina grumbled, but she led the way several paces ahead. “Credence?”

He remained with Newt, who reassured, “It’s all right,” but Credence was unwilling to leave him until Queenie smiled softly.

“It’s a thing between siblings… They need this,” she added in a whisper. Credence looked to Newt, whose eyes were watery from the pain in his nose but otherwise he nodded and Credence went ahead with the others.

Theseus and Newt walked at a lethargic pace, waiting for the others to get out of earshot as well as bearing the silence that had fallen between them.

“So how did you get out of it?” Theseus started. “The gambling pit.”

 _“Immobilus_ worked just as well,” Newt answered quietly.

“Are all of your creatures like that? Rescues?”

“I’m not smuggling them to sell them, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.” Theseus sighed, stopping on the gravel to scrub a hand over his face. Newt stopped too, his eyes on the ground. Theseus looked out over the field and stars before he gazed at Newt for a long time. “Je ne suis pas allé chez Monsieur Worme parce que notre mère et notre père m’ont demandé… Je suis allé parce que j’étais inquiet pour toi.”

Newt’s eyes slowly lifted and wandered as he processed that. His weight shifted as he said, “You haven’t spoken French to me in seventeen years.”

“Yeah, well.” Theseus rotated on the ball of his foot, taking a wandering step.

“Why now?” Newt pressed.

“Come on, it’s our mother tongue. I can’t use it?” he snapped. Newt visibly ebbed away from him, inducing another rough sigh from him. “Is it too late for me to grow some proper brains? Jacqueline’s pregnant.”

Newt turned back to him. “She is? That’s…good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I’m _bloody terrified,”_ Theseus barked, turning away to press his fingers into his eyes. “Maman and papa don’t know yet. I can barely make my own peace with it, I don’t need them bringing it up every time I’m here.”

Newt stepped toward him but stopped, puzzled. “Why would you be afraid? She’s the one having the baby. It’s typically the mother who—”

 _“I know_ it’s typically the mother,” Theseus curtailed. “But I…I don’t want it to be that way. I want to be involved, just as much as she, but…” He turned enough for Newt to see the side of his face. “I’m not ready.”

“You have nine months to get ready—”

“Newt,” Theseus stopped. “I’m saying…I don’t think I should be a father. I’m not good enough. I’m not good at…domestic things. I get anxious when I go a while without a proper fight. I sleep better outside than in a bed, and I can’t sleep unless I’m so exhausted I could do it standing up.”

“I think having a child will do you just as well regarding sleep deprivation,” Newt commented.

Theseus sent a glare at his brother. After a moment his features relaxed, his breath fogging in the cold air. “A war hero of England they call me…it’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” Newt agreed softly. To the look Theseus gave him he explained, “I was there…in the hospital during your psychotherapy.”

Theseus’s gaze was steady. “For your back. I remember. I suppose I’m just as much to blame for that.”

Newt rolled pebbles under his boot as he murmured, “You could have just come on your own. You didn’t need to bring the whole ministry with you.”

“You disappeared,” Theseus defended. “It was bad enough what happened at Hogwarts, then the war started and you went off to play with dragons and disappeared with a whole colony.”

“It was my job to keep the dragons out of the war,” Newt argued. “Just because I was the only one who took the job seriously, doesn’t mean I was wrong in what I did.”

Theseus blew air between his lips. “The aurors had quite a time trying to find you. Every lead they had told the story differently on how you had gone missing. Most of the keepers painted you as a criminal and wanted you taken back to England in chains. Said you’d stolen the dragons from them.”

“And it never occurred to anyone that they were the ones at fault?” Newt challenged. “Was the ministry so ready to reimburse millions of galleons to them for the dragons instead of investigating further?”

“Of course it occurred to someone—me, you’re welcome—once we found you and saw that the dragons were safe instead of sold to the highest bidders. That’s the reason you’re not in Azkaban. The point is I was the only one who could do it. Only I could find you and I had to prepare myself to cut a skeleton out of a dragon’s belly. All I heard was that my brother was missing. I didn’t need anything more than that.”

He met Theseus’s matching eyes, but his had more brown and Newt’s more blue. “The keepers were selling the dragons. We weren’t supposed to. We were paid not to, to stay out of the war and move the dragons when the war infringed on their forests, but eventually the offers were triple the wage and more difficult to refuse. Call me a criminal or a coward like everyone else did, I don’t care. I still ran, and they ran with me. My honour or my fear—whatever you want to call it—told me to expand my case to hold the eggs; not to yield to my opportunistic superiors.”

Theseus’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’m no one to judge honour or one’s fear. The war did away with honour. It doesn’t bring capitalist profit or military gain. As for fear…I would be a liar to claim I haven’t felt and acted upon my good share of it. But what do you mean, they ‘ran with you’? Dragons are more likely to burn you to a crisp the moment you unlock their cages. Are you saying they just watched you put their eggs in a case and galloped along?”

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” Newt murmured and more quietly, “They bonded with me.”

“Bonded…”

“I don’t know how to explain it! They just did. When they saw that I had incapacitated the keepers, they followed me.”

Theseus was visibly dubious. “Newt…that’s some pre-medieval, Merlin legend sort of thing.”

Newt’s chin lowered within his collar once more, gently nuzzling the soft niffler feathers. “I’m not expecting you to believe me,” he repeated quietly. “They only harmed me when the aurors came to take me from them. They were trying to hold onto me.”

“You loved them,” Theseus realized. He paused. “You always did love dangerous creatures.”

“Don’t,” Newt uttered, quieter still.

“It’s my own fault you fell in with her,” Theseus declared. “If I hadn’t pushed you away, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with a Lestrange.”

“That was a long time ago,” Newt all but whispered.

“Yeah well it still broke us. No…I broke us… I just never imagined you would find a second family with a bunch of dragons.” He laughed suddenly. “That’s so like you.”

Their leisurely pace resumed over the road. After a while, the niffler peeked up at Newt, looking over his collar at their surroundings. Theseus smiled, “You would be a good father. Much better than me.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Newt disagreed. “You already care this much, you’re just focusing on the wrong things.”

“Merlin’s beard, how do you _do_ that? How aren’t you livid with me all the time? I would handle this better if you cursed me and my spawn.”

“That’s my niece or nephew you’re talking about,” Newt cornered, earning a laugh from his brother. “I was angry…before,” Newt admitted. “I was angry for a long time, but I didn’t know how to process it. I didn’t know how to be mad at you. Eventually I was just…too tired to keep it up.”

“You gave up on me,” Theseus reiterated and exhaled, “I would have given up on me too.”

“I thought I had,” Newt said, “until we were quarantined in St. Mungo’s. I realized the war had been easy on me in comparison.”

Theseus hesitated and then said, “They tried to put me in a group of other aurors so we could…talk about it amongst ourselves. Share our stories. They don’t understand that some of us don’t want to relive such things. Better to be obliviated and be done with it.”

Newt peered at him. “But…you would lose years of your life—”

“I’m not saying it’s a widely shared opinion,” Theseus acquiesced. “It’s just how I felt. Do you have any stories like that? The ones you would rather bury.”

“Yes,” Newt admitted.

Theseus looked at him but did not push the topic. “What are we to do then? Two war-ragged souls lost in peacetime—Are you crying?”

“No. Of course not,” Newt barked, but weakly. He turned away, trying and failing to stealthily wipe his eyes. “Englishmen don’t cry. You said that once.”

“You mean when I was thirteen and trying to convince my bigoted friends that I only spoke the king’s English?”

Newt sniffled, refusing to look at him.

Theseus sighed, “Yeah, Englishmen don’t cry, just like ladies don’t have an arse hole and the king shits gold and the prime minister spends it. Viens ici.”

Newt rotated with his brother’s hands guiding him to his chest. “That last one might be true,” he muffled against Theseus’s robes.

His brother chuckled, holding Newt so the niffler was not squished between them. Newt’s head found the bend of his neck, and feeling Newt’s ear on his cheek, he leaned back. “Don’t disappear again, eh?” he murmured, kissing his hair.

“Are you asking for maman or yourself?”

“I’m asking for Jacqueline,” Theseus countered as they parted. “My wife’s been learning breathing techniques for the birth but I’ve found them more useful. Someone needs to help her while I’m having panic attacks.”

Leaving his arm around Newt’s shoulders, they continued on. “Why haven’t you told maman? Or papa? They’ve done this twice, after all.”

Theseus looked at him. “Because you’re my brother and I love you,” he said by way of explanation. And in its own way, it was.

As they walked along, Jacob and Queenie’s laughter drifted back to them on the air. “How far is her range?”

“Range?” Newt repeated.

“Does one need to be next to her or can she read a mind across the street,” he reiterated. “What’s her range?”

Newt blinked, “Several floors of a skyscraper…I’m not entirely sure. Vast, I would say.”

“So would I be wrong to think she’s been eavesdropping on us?”

“She respects privacy, but I don’t think she knew the Ministry keeps a registry of legilimens because of personal research,” Newt smirked. “She’s far from malevolent.”

Theseus’s brows lifted once but he submitted, “She handles it marvelously. Usually natural legilimens have an inclination toward…manic behaviors.”

“I’ve no doubt Tina is to thank for that,” Newt said. “She’s remarkably stable in sticky situations.”

“A good auror, then,” Theseus concluded. “Are you fond of her?”

“What? No. I mean yes. Not like that,” Newt said distractedly. He shrugged the arm not holding the niffler out of his robe.

“You’re still crying…and sweating. Newt, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he breathed. “Just hot.”

“It’s below ten degrees. It’s anything but hot,” Theseus doubted as Newt stumbled. He caught him. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you in pain?”

“It…” Newt huffed a trembling breath, letting his brother hold him up. “It tends to react after a…situation.”

“It?”

“My scar.”

Theseus turned him around, pointing his wand to tear right through his layers of fabric. “Merlin’s beard, Newt.”

Before Newt could ask what he saw, they apparated just outside the barrier of the family property. Credence and the others were not far behind him. Jacob recognized first that something was wrong. “Newt? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Theseus disregarded. “Just can’t apparate through the barrier, is all.”

A few paces more, and they vanished in a swirl of colour. Credence looked among the others, Jacob looking concerned with Tina but Queenie gave him a small smile. She did not stop him, so he went ahead. Newt usually went to his caravan for health supplies, but upon finding it vacant, he went to the house. The sounds coming from the ceiling were telling enough. As he crested the stairs, a bit of a crash was heard from the room at the end of the hall.

“For the love of treacle, stay still,” Theseus exclaimed. Something like a boot hitting a dresser pulled Credence to the doorjamb, where he peeked within. The niffler was sniffing a bronze bowl on the dresser as Newt and Theseus fell on the bed, the latter just barely managing to rid the former of his topmost clothing. The scar on Newt’s back was violently inflamed.

“This will probably hurt until you’re used to it,” Theseus apologized as he recovered his wand. Newt had fallen across his other arm. A pale gust of air blew from the tip, hitting Newt’s skin and causing him to cry out painfully. “Breathe…just breathe. This may take some time.”

Newt shuddered as Theseus drew designs across his scar, the skin of it paling as if someone pressed a hand to it before the crimson hues flushed back in.

Credence startled at the touch on his arm. Charlotte held a finger to her lips, which were gently curved in a smile. Waving her fingers, she gestured for him to follow her. “Thirsty?” she asked once they were in the kitchen. Claude could be seen in the adjacent living room, his feet up by the fire as he read a book.

Charlotte set down two glasses of water on the table. “Theseus told me he was impressed with you.”

She looked at the chair opposite her, and then at him. He took the hint and sat down. “He did?”

“Mmhm,” she hummed, taking a sip. “He says your magic is strong.”

Credence’s fingers wandered the edge of his glass. “Are you…afraid of me?”

She laughed softly. “No, of course not. I recognize untrained magic when I see it, and it’s not too far different from Theseus and Newt when they were little. Especially when they teamed together.” She shook her head as if the very memories gave her stress. “Frankly, dear, it’s quite a marvel this house is still standing.”

A small smile curved the corner of Credence’s mouth. “Newt said he destroyed a wall, once.”

“A wall?” Her brows lifted over her glass. “How modest of him.”

Credence’s eyes brightened. “He did more?”

She smirked. “I don't know if you've noticed, but his spells tend to be bigger than he intends them to be. There’s a crater just beyond the first layer of trees; we call it the nest. Let’s just say it was involuntarily made. The hippogriffs took to it, though. I’m just thankful Claude is the one who gave them to me. His gentility has been invaluable. I mean, apart from being their father and the love of my life, etc. etc.”

“Love you too, darling,” said Claude from the fire.

She laughed. “Love doesn't let us choose. It likes to make old fools of us all. We got lucky.”

The upholstery creaked as Claude stood and came to the kitchen. “But I wasn’t old, nor was I a fool,” he teased, filling his own glass. “At least, not until I realized I was already neck deep in a world I had never heard of.”

He sat at the end of the table, sitting between them and opening his palm for Charlotte to take his hand. Credence watched his thumb roam over her knuckles and said, “Did it scare you?”

“Oh yes,” Claude guffawed. “I was terrified the first time Charlie levitated me because I was in her way.” He looked at his wife fondly. “But at some point I realized I was more frightened of returning to what I knew. I was a teacher of French language and cooking. I loved it, sure, but…I can’t say I was bored. That’s not the right way of putting it… It was like I had been living in a room with a curtain over the window and finally the curtain had been moved. The sun was finally touching me. I wanted to look outside. I wanted to go outside. Does that make sense?”

Credence’s lips had parted and then closed. He nodded.

Upstairs, the niffler climbed over Newt’s face from the headboard, burrowing against his chest under his jaw. Theseus drew slow figure eights, loops, and spirals over his backside, the effect calming them both. Theseus blinked slowly, groggily. Inhaling, he turned his head to see how the redness had lessened. “How do you manage it on your own?”

Newt turned his head. “A poultice, usually,” he yawned, “or I’ll sit against the waters in my case.”

“Mm,” Theseus grunted softly. “There’s magic in it.”

“Yes,” Newt breathed, “I’m afraid that’s what makes it so invigorating.”

Theseus snorted a laugh. “That’s a word for it. Newt…what are you going to do once Credence is at Hogwarts?”

Newt blinked against the pillow as Theseus elaborated, “Technically you’re still not allowed on school grounds without a chaperone. I know Dumbledore suffices as this but he’s not headmaster yet… I don’t know how long you’ll be allowed to stay there.”

Newt’s ribs expanded and tingled under the cold blast. “I know,” he admitted. “I’ll stay as long as Credence wants me.”

“And when he’s comfortably settled?” Theseus asked. When his brother was silent, however, he pushed, “Newt?”

“I’m not sure I can say it to an auror,” he provided.

Theseus sighed. “I think I already know what you want to do.”

Another pause. “And?”

Theseus’s arm still rested under Newt’s head, Newt’s back running along Theseus’s side. The wand swished back and forth until he plucked the thin chain around Newt’s neck. He found the half of the thunderbird feather…as well as the golden cog from their mother’s pocket watch; a cog not unlike the one he wore as a ring. “Don’t lose this. I'll trust you. Just don’t lose this.”

*******

“The Hogsmeade train leaves tomorrow morning,” Charlotte said as the Goldsteins, Jacob, and Credence ate breakfast. “We’ve got a floo network to Theseus’s home in London. Nice and easy so you needn’t worry about pronunciation.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Queenie said to Credence. “It’s just a little stuffy.”

Suddenly Claude and Theseus entered the kitchen, the former’s shirt smeared and an entire sleeve covered in blood while the latter was sweating and wiping his hands on the towel he grabbed. Credence’s jaw went slack as the table fell silent.

“She’s a difficult one, then?” Charlotte crooned.

Theseus only sighed raggedly and marched back outside while his father finished a glass of water before he joined him. “The wings keep getting caught.”

Credence’s gaze darted between the table’s inhabitants, inducing Charlotte to explain, “Newt’s hippogriff went into labour last night. It can be a grueling process, particularly with the wings. We only interfere when they’re stuck, and it’s far too easy to break or dislocate the joints while trying to pull the foals out.”

“The…blood?” Credence asked.

Charlotte shrugged as she sipped her tea. “The placenta fluid. Nothing to worry about. My boys have seen me birth thousands of foals, and I only lost two because they were stillborn. You can go to them, if you want. Straight back through the trees is the nest. Or you can just follow Russel’s noise.”

Credence left them to do that, both the dog’s baying leading him and the fact that the nest was not too far from the meadow. A shallow pit rested within the earth, blanketed with grass, wild flowers, and pine needles among other hippogriffs lounging on the rim. In the center were the three men with the rust and cream coloured hippogriff. Newt was behind her, firmly holding obsidian talons while Claude and Theseus were on either side, reaching into the creature to position the wings and hold them down.

“Now,” Claude ordered, and they pulled. Slowly, and then all at once the ink black foal slipped out of its mother. The hippogriff startled to her feet while a large, wet sack hung under her tail before Claude grabbed it and it landed with a heavy wet sound.

“We ought to call you Hector, the time you took coming out,” Theseus remarked as he wiped his hands on the towel. Charlotte reached under her wing to pick at something before she trotted around and nudged her foal with her beak. Clumsy and confused, the creature slumped against her nudges.

Newt’s arm came under and around her neck, stroking her and coaxing her back. “Give him room, darling. It’s a bright world out here.”

The foal unfolded his wings, his lanky forelegs finding purchase on the grass. After a few failed attempts, his hind legs suddenly lifted his backside, causing his front to stumble. In his own time he balanced his weight over his legs and looked up at his mother with matching yellow eyes.

“Well done, lads,” Claude smiled, clapping their shoulders to pull them in an embrace. “Let’s get cleaned up. She can take care of the rest. Good morning, Credence.”

They started up the slope of the nest, meeting Credence on the edge. “Morning,” he returned.

“Do you know if there are any croissants left?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Wonderful,” he hummed, heading toward the house with renewed vigour.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Newt said to Theseus, who huffed a sarcastic laugh. “I’m mostly sure your child won’t have wings to complicate things.”

“You’re funny,” Theseus sassed, pushing his shoulder so Newt laughed as he caught himself.

“Your child?” Claude returned. His sons stared at him, not having expected him to hear. “Theseus?” he pressed.

Theseus glanced at Newt, and then, “Yeah…Jacqueline’s pregnant.”

Claude’s weight shifted, visibly on the verge of jubilation. “How far along?”

Theseus swallowed. “Two months.”

A grin bloomed on Claude’s face and he thudded against his son’s chest, hugging him. “It’s frightening, isn’t it?” he laughed, stroking the back of Theseus’s head and parting enough to look at him. Theseus breathed a shaky laugh but nodded. Claude’s happiness shined out of him. “So was I when you came along. You’ll do wonderfully, I have no doubt.”

In an instant Theseus’s eyes glistened, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed and pulled his father back against him. Claude laughed, opening one of his arms to bring Newt into the embrace. Credence turned to leave the family to their happiness—

“You too. Get in here,” Claude demanded, suddenly yanking Credence against Newt and Theseus. After a long moment, they separated and Claude suggested, “We should have a drink to celebrate. Bring the girls along.”

“I think the pub’s off limits for a while,” Theseus refused, “but I’d be glad to bring back a bottle or two of champagne.”

“Your mother doesn’t know?” Claude clarified. Theseus pressed his lips together, not unlike Newt. “Then, be tasteful about it. You know how she prides her grandmother’s vineyard. She’ll never forgive you for choosing rubbish.”

*******

“I love the names,” Queenie said as she and Tina perused the shelves of wine and champagne. “How do you know what’s good without buying everything?”

“You take recommendations from friends or ask the merchant for certain flavours,” Theseus said. “Do you ladies have anything you’re absolutely against?”

“Nothing sour,” Tina suggested.

“I’m okay with sour and sweet,” Queenie said, “but nothing unbearably dry.”

Theseus chuckled. “Did you get that, Horus?”

“Aye, sir!” the shopkeeper called from within his shelves. He emerged holding two bottles by the neck in each hand. “I’ve got two golds, a white, and a nice pink, like fresh peaches. The gold one here borders on the bitter side. It's the blood oranges, but I think you'll quite like it.”

“I don’t got the palette for champagne,” Jacob admitted. “So I’ll trust these folks’ judgment.”

“When did we have champagne, Teenie?” Queenie asked as the bell on the door announced the arrival of more patrons.

“Ilvermorny serves it at graduation and…we used our first paychecks to buy a bottle,” Tina remembered. She glanced at Theseus. “Admittedly it wasn’t a glamorous brand or vintage.”

He pursed his lips and waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t care what it costs as long as it tastes good. And don’t you think I don’t see that expensive one, Horus. Put that back on the shelf.”

“One o’these days, Mr. Scamander, you’ll feel generous,” Horus sulked, doing as he was told.

“Maybe in seven months,” Theseus conceded as Credence asked, “What’s the difference between wine and champagne?”

Newt perked up. “Traditionally it is made from a specific type of grape, from the Champagne region of France. The methods of its creation are also slightly different as it’s fermented twice to create carbonation, not unlike pop.”

His head turned to where the three men had come in and were looking at Queenie more than the labels. Tina had noticed too. Horus was talking to Theseus about the two gold champagnes but Queenie was slowly stepping toward Jacob’s other side…

“Excuse me,” one of them said before she got there. She turned, her features naturally pleasant but the curve of her lips did not reach her eyes. “You celebrating something?”

“Yeah,” she chimed in her own way. “Got a baby comin’.”

“Not yours, surely,” he laughed. “Horus doesn’t sell non-alcoholic spirits. And you sound like New York, am I right?”

“Yeah, born and raised except for when we were in school,” she glanced at Tina. The man did not even look.

“We’ve got a bit of our own party happening tonight. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, but I’ll stay with my friends.”

“Come on,” he beckoned. “You’ll have more fun celebrating with us than over some bairn that’s not even yours.”

She faced him fully. “It may as well be. A child of my friend is as good as mine. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he laughed with a look toward his companions. “You saying I’m not good enough?”

“I’m saying I’m not interested,” she said quietly. “Thanks for inviting me.”

He stepped forward but Jacob met him, “Look pal, if the lady says no, she means—”

The man guffawed suddenly. “Is _this_ what you’re refusing us for?”

“Us?” Tina stepped forward. “What do you think you’re doin’?”

“This doesn’t involve you, ugly,” he disregarded. “I’m interested in the _blond and all of you need to respect a man’s...”_

He stopped, because Queenie said his own words the same time they left his mouth. “Huh? You don’t wanna say it? Then I’ll talk. I don’t want to go with you because you’re rude and arrogant enough to think that celebrating a new life isn’t a good time. I don’t want to waste my time with you because you have two children of your own that you ignore. I don’t have to go with you because unlike you, I respect myself. I know my friends will stand by me the same way I know your friends won’t. I know this like I know George there has a bladder control problem. It’s okay, George, it happens. You need to see a doctor. Better to get it fixed than t’let it get worse. That is, if he could stop paying for yours and Simon’s gambling debt. Gambling’s illegal isn’t it, Simon? Better to burn those stubs in your shoe than carry’em around. Simon wishes he had as loud a mouth as you but he’s thankfully reconsidering this along with your friendship.

“If it wasn’t clear, doll, I don’t like you. I don’t like you because you insulted my honey and my sister without even thinkin’ about how you’re outnumbered. My sister, who’s more beautiful than me and is used to takin’ care’a fellas like you who think that just because you’re a man you can treat a girl like somethin’ disposable. It never occurs to ya that your parts are more delicate than mine. To answer your question: no, you’re not good enough.”

“Queenie,” Tina gently interrupted. Her sister stared vacantly and then blinked as if coming out of a dream. Approaching behind her, Tina interlaced both sets of fingers with Queenie’s, hugging her from behind to guide her backward.

“Teenie?” she whispered.

“Yeah. It’s old me,” she purred. “We might need another bottle to celebrate the beating you just gave’em.”

“I agree,” Theseus seconded as Queenie’s lashes blinked heavily. “Horus, wrap up those three. As for you, gentlemen,” he revealed his auror badge. “Both sexual harassment and gambling are illegal. I’m curious what will turn up once we check to see if you’ve paid child support.”

If the men were not already pale, what little blood remained in their faces drained completely.

*******

It was the Goldsteins’ turn to walk separately from the others. They understood, and Jacob was beside himself. “Did ya hear that? I’m her honey.”

Theseus laughed. “Well done, old boy.”

“What’s going to happen to those men?” Credence asked.

“Ah, the handy thing about these tickets,” Theseus explained, pulling out the small pad of perforated paper. “Once I tear one off and it touches someone other than me, that someone has a week to report to the ministry for their hearing. If they don’t, well, it would be easier to just show up.”

He pocketed the paper and lifted one of the bottles out of the sack. “I think maman will like this. If not, you’re taking the blame, Newt. Light weight that you are.”

Newt laughed. “I wonder more how she will take being the last to know.”

Credence looked behind them at where the Goldsteins were walking with their arms around each other, heads close in conversation. They passed through the barrier, Newt’s augurey landing on his shoulder, twittering.

“Rain?” Theseus guessed, looking up at the sky. “Hm. Maybe a sprinkle. That will be good. Mum likes clear nights.”

Newt paused, noticing Credence falling behind. Credence glanced at him but Newt simply nodded, understanding.

“Hi, sweetie,” Queenie breathed, her smile apologetic. “Did I scare you?”

He swallowed, shaking his head. “Not as much as those guys… Are you okay?”

“Yeah…I’m better,” she rephrased as Tina rubbed her back.

“Is it hard?” he ventured. “Being able to read minds?”

“Sometimes,” she replied. “Are you wondering why I live in Manhattan?”

Credence blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that, but…yes. Wouldn’t it be too much?”

Queenie smiled softly. “Can I take your arm?”

He did not understand initially but he looked down at her offered arm and bent his own. She laced her fingers over his elbow. “It can be too much, but people’s thoughts are like the people themselves. All together it’s just like listening to the buzz of a crowd. So...in some ways this makes the city an easier place. Individually, it's easier to fall into someone's head, but there are some folks you can just listen to and be happy, you know? You can sit in the room with ‘em and not say a word, but the space is comfy…safe and pleasant. Teenie’s like that.”

Credence met Tina’s gaze. She smiled at him and lifted her eyes toward the hippogriffs flying over the treetops. Queenie continued, “Jacob’s like that, and Newt too. Really all the Scamanders have nice minds…even if a couple of 'em are a little scratched up. Anyway, sure, people can be cruel, but the ones who aren’t outnumber the others, don’t ya think?”

His eyes softened. “Yes.” Then he asked, “What’s Newt’s mind like?”

Queenie smiled. “He’s hard to read. I thought it was the accent, but now I know it’s because he’s got another language in there. He’s easy too, though. People are easy to read when they are feeling one emotion, like happiness or pain. He’s happy with his animals, so his head is usually clear when he’s with them. When I first met him, a few had gotten out of the case, so his mind was all over the place. Well…his mind’s always kinda _goin’_.”

“What do you mean?” Credence asked.

Queenie shrugged. “The Scamanders are smart. Smart people have brains that sorta…hum. It’s nice. And I like how when Newt feels something he feels it really strongly. His mind’s like a beacon, but it’s not overwhelming. It’s a nice energy to be around. You know, you’re kinda the same. You hum.” She bumped Credence’s shoulder, smiling. “Say, has he told you about Leta?”

“About what?”

Queenie held his gaze. “The portrait in his case? Leta Lestrange?” She looked to her sister. “Did he get rid of it?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant,” Tina answered with a warning look in her eyes.

“Sure, Newt hasn’t seen her since they were kids but I was just curious—”

“Should I know about her?” Credence asked.

Tina and Queenie looked at each other. “No!” they chimed together.

*******

The pitter of rain sang over the roof over the course of the afternoon, the occasional croon of a hippogriff being heard. Come dinnertime, the rain had stopped and every door and window was open to let the fresh fragrance and unusually warm evening air permeate the house. Claude was sautéing vegetables while Jacob made the dough for their potpies and Theseus opened the first bottle of champagne.

“This will make a bit of a bang,” he warned Credence as he unwound the wiring and contained the cork as the pressure released. “Now the key to pouring, is to tilt the glass…”

He had tasked Credence with gathering enough champagne flutes and now accepted one of them to demonstrate. “The angle diffuses the bubbles, you see. There’s no harm in waiting for them to fizzle out but it will give you more _puissance_ to know the little trick.” He winked, earning a smile from Credence.

“What’s the occasion?” Charlotte asked as she entered from the living room.

Theseus paused and blurted. “Our guests are leaving tomorrow, we can’t leave them with a bad impression of our hospitality.”

There was a judgmental sigh between said guests but the sound of the pies going into the oven covered it. Charlotte lifted the bottle for inspection. “Notes of Spanish oranges, huh?”

“If you’re going to be difficult, there are two other options,” Theseus challenged, holding up a glass for her.

“Who’s difficult?” she said innocently despite a raised brow, but upon her first sip she made a sound of approval. Credence liked it too, especially after Newt thought to freeze wedges of an orange from a tree in his case to drop in everyone’s glasses. The house soon smelled rich with spices and baked bread and the pies emerged, roux bubbling gently from the vents cut in the dough.

Eventually two hippogriffs stuck their heads through the kitchen window, inducing Newt and Charlotte to leave to preoccupy the creatures away from their dessert. Credence was enjoying the chocolate mousse…

“Is that a violin?” Tina asked. Credence heard the lilting notes trickle from outside as he saw Theseus and Claude look at one another. They both stood, inspiring the others to follow outside, where Newt was turning Charlotte in a dance. The violin bow gracefully sawed without guidance, levitating in a waltz of its own to distract the hippogriffs curiously drawn to it.

“Credence,” Queenie smiled. “Do you wanna learn how to dance?”

His eyes lowered to her hand and he accepted, glancing at Newt holding his mother and the swish of her dress before Queenie positioned his hands herself. When his hand touched her waist he stuttered, “I-Is that okay?”

She giggled, “I’m not poisonous, I promise.”

His features drooped. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” she assured. “But that’s good progress, if you’re worried about touching other people, not whether they touch you.”

“It is?” he wondered, letting her lead.

She only chortled and lifted her hand from his shoulder to brush her fingertips through his fringe. “Your hair looks nice this way. You seem more comfortable. Are you?”

His lips parted as he thought about it, and nodded. She grinned. “I’m glad. We’re going to Hogwarts tomorrow! You excited?”

His chin ducked as he smiled, sharing a laugh with her.

“ ’Scuse me, mind if I interrupt?” Jacob asked.

“Sure, honey,” Queenie chimed, switching to Jacob while Credence went to stand with Claude while Theseus danced with Tina. Further in the meadow, Newt swept his mother across the lawn…but Credence noticed that they were not touching the grass, and more and more were they rising in the air. He could not hear what they talked about, but Newt held his mother close, laughing at something she said.

They descended as Theseus approached them and switched with Newt, who came to ask Credence, “Cold?”

He shook his head. “It’s warm tonight.”

Newt raked a hand through his hair. “Technically Hogwarts is in Scotland. You’ll be glad for your wool robe. I’ll make some pocket warmers on the train—”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVERYONE ALREADY KNOWS?” Charlotte screeched.

“I saved the best for last, obviously,” Theseus defended weakly. His mother harrumphed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Je ne suis pas allé a Monsieur Worme parce que notre mère et notre père m’ont demandé… Je suis allé parce que j’étais inquiet pour toi.”
> 
> ~I didn't go to Mr. Worme because our mother and father asked me to...I went because I was worried about you.~
> 
> "Viens ici." ~Come here.~


	15. Platform 9 and 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All aboard~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references my Alternate Ending/New Beginning for this story, in case anybody gets lost.

“The train leaves at eleven o’clock, you’ve got time,” Claude announced as he set breakfast on the table. Theseus was writing on a sheet of paper. Credence noticed it was a fountain pen contrary to the typical feather and ink, and once he capped it he began to fold the paper intricately. Credence wondered why he did not use his wand but soon enough he held up a paper flower with long petals. He went to the kitchen fireplace where a copper jar was mounted to the mantle. Pinching a greenish powder, he threw it into the red and orange flames. They flushed emerald and peridot before his paper lily vanished within its depths.

“I can’t let Jacqueline go defenseless while the whole family arrives unannounced,” he declared as he sat down and scooped his share of eggs onto his plate.

“Does she work?” Tina asked, putting jam on a slice of baguette.

“She’s a potions master,” Theseus perked up. “Quite a master of poisons as well. A bit of a…” he leaned toward Credence to narrate, “a magical toxicologist.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Queenie uttered.

Theseus made a laughing sound that somehow morphed into a groan of agreement as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Anyone’s welcome to convince her to start her maternity leave early when you meet.”

Credence’s croissant rained flakes as he bit into it, the buttery softness within tasting of almond and sugar. So far, this was his favourite. He looked at the niffler wiggling excitedly in front of the fire. Newt sat at the head of the table this morning to be close to the fish cooking on a skillet in the embers, which he now set on the waiting plate beside the creature. The niffler was already on top of the fish as he sprinkled moss on it, flakes of green landing among the silver feathers.

Russel lumbered past Credence’s chair to inspect the food but stopped when Newt extended his leg, blocking his path. The basset hound rested his long head on Newt’s knee, looking up at him dejectedly. Credence watched the dog’s eyes glaze over and sag closed as Newt pet him with one hand and ate with the other. Experimentally, Credence extended a hand and stroked the back of the dog’s head. Russel swung his great head around and found Credence’s knee, jowls soft and drooping against his thigh.

“He’ll stay there until the sky falls,” Newt murmured. Credence lifted his eyes from where he petted the dog to see Newt’s gentle smile before he looked back at his plate.

Credence glanced around him: at Tina laughing at something Claude said and Charlotte conversing with Queenie while Jacob and Theseus compared London and New York. Jacob needed help remembering the street of a deli, which he looked to Credence for; Credence knew the smell of the meat and cheeses but had never eaten there.

“We’ll get a sandwich and see a play in the park. Hold me to it,” Jacob promised. Credence smiled softly.

 _…while the whole family arrives unannounced,_ Theseus had sited.

 _Family,_ Credence wondered.

Queenie looked at him then. He blinked, realizing she had heard his thoughts. She simply winked, and returned to her conversation with Charlotte.

After breakfast Newt went to pack his case, which dominantly meant convincing his creatures to go back into the case. The occumies went willingly enough into the kettle full of roaches Credence held as Newt moved their nest back inside. Dougal slept through the affair entirely, never so much as lifting his head out of his nest. When he reached the bowtruckles’ home tree, however, Newt glanced at the house, where his mother was appearing out of the kitchen door. Lifting his arm on which Pickett sat, Newt said, “I’m leaving the tree here, Pickett. This may be your last chance in a long while.”

The other bowtruckles moved, revealing there to be more creatures than leaves as they came around the trunk to see the goings on. They twittered amongst themselves while Pickett bubbly stomped his claws on Newt’s arm.

Charlotte laughed behind him. “I don’t think he takes well to being evicted.”

Newt smiled with a huff of breath. “I’m not evicting him, but this was his original home tree. The bowtruckles will be able to help you with tasks on days your hands won’t do them.”

Her eyes dragged over the tree. “I think a tree of them is enough. Pickett is yours, or more aptly, you belong to Pickett. You're his home now. You take care of him, little green one.”

Pickett’s leaves fluttered happily before he blew his tongue at Newt. Charlotte guffawed as Newt rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know they could do that!” she sang.

“Yes, I seem to unlock the more refined parts of creatures’ personalities,” Newt sassed. Charlotte’s laughter faded as she stroked a hand over his hair and he moved his arm so Pickett could rest on his shoulder.

“Credence, are you ready to go?” she turned to him. “Claude’s making lunches for you all. Typically the only thing the train’s good for is sweets.”

“I just need to get my robe,” he smiled softly.

“Speaking of,” Theseus announced himself, shaking out Credence and Newt’s robes. “We’ll be going to my place first, so I suggest wearing this to protect that nice shirt from any soot.”

Credence glanced down at his white shirt and waistcoat as Newt descended into his case to finish his arrangements. He looked back up at Theseus holding his robe open for him. “Would you rather put it on yourself?” Theseus offered.

Credence’s lashes kissed his cheeks as he shook his head. “It’s all right. Thank you.”

He turned and slid his arms through the sleeves. Once on his shoulders, he rotated to face Theseus but paused as the man straightened his robe’s lapels and one of his hands gently touched the top of his head, measuring.

“Huh. You’re almost as tall as Newt. I never noticed,” Theseus realized, removing his hand. “A little wider too. Then again, Scamanders are all reeds. That’s good, though. You're a young man. You ought to look the part,” he smiled.

Credence processed that, his shoulders relaxing a little before Theseus said, “Here, I thought you might find this useful.” He held up a pair of thin leather belts connected by another strip of leather; all of it sewn together by glistening green silk thread. “It’s probably not the kind you want but as an auror, I’ve gone through my fair share of wand holsters. A good one that won’t break is important. This one is meant to go around your thigh, good for discretely drawing your wand. If you don’t like it, I’m sure Newt can refashion it for wherever you like to keep your wand. He’s good at that creative sort of thing… He was always better at the more artistic things. Dancing. Singing.”

Credence’s head perked up. “Singing?”

Theseus fixed him with a similar look of surprise. “You haven’t heard him? I would have expected he sings all the time to his creatures.”

“Maybe, but…I haven’t heard him,” Credence voiced.

A soft smile similar to the mischief Newt wore on his face curved Theseus’s features. “Keep an ear out. Even though I was shite to him at school I always admired him. He was brave in his own way. He earned his place in the school choir…although I’m certain he only joined because of the frogs.”

Credence laughed. “Frogs? In a choir?”

“Oh yeah. Big ones,” Theseus held his hands to demonstrate the size. “Ugly toads, but their baritone complimented Newt’s voice nicely. That's the only thing I did right: keeping others from bullying the pretty boy in the choir. It wasn’t Newt’s fault he had accidentally found the secret to being surrounded by girls.”

Theseus laughed but Credence was notably quiet. Theseus’s head tilted slightly as he examined him, but leaves rattled as Charlotte the hippogriff and her foal rushed out of the trees as Newt was emerging from his case. He was reaching for his robe when he noticed the hippogriffs—

“You’re not coming!” he exclaimed, but the hippogriff knocked him back and he was sucked into his own case before the black foal was nudged by its mother to follow suit. In another moment the albino hippogriff arrived and went into the case as well…followed by the steel grey steed, and the various browns. Last but not least, his augurey swooped inside. From within Newt could be heard moaning, “Merlin’s beard…”

Credence and Theseus looked at one another, the latter shrugging, “It’s amusing how he thinks he’s in charge. But I need to thank you, Credence.”

The youth looked at him vacantly. Theseus shifted his weight and went forth, “I have seen more of Newt’s personality in the days you came with him than in the years after we were at school. I…I want to thank you for that. You, Tina, Jacob, and Queenie, of course. Whatever you lot are doing, keep at it.”

Credence processed this and shook his head slightly. “I haven’t done anything.”

Theseus’s steady gaze was on him. “He likes you. He’s always been protective of the things he likes.”

Newt climbed out of the case, resigned as he crouched to shut the buckles. He looked up at his brother and Credence. “What is it?”

Theseus chimed, “Just loitering. Shall we go?”

Credence pocketed the holster, but in the kitchen, he felt his heart palpitate when Theseus threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. Credence had not appreciated how the fireplace was large enough to hold a grown man as tall as Theseus, but now as he watched the wizard step into the emerald flames, Credence felt his heart waver in his chest.

Jacob visibly reacted. “Wo—Uh. So, we step into that?”

Claude reassured. “It doesn’t hurt. I’ll go next.”

He stepped right in, and vanished as if he had passed through the brick on the back of the fireplace. Jacob sighed but Queenie rubbed his arm. “I’ll go first, honey.”

She went, and Jacob stroked a palm over his hair, steeling himself. His foot jerked a bit as he stepped into the flames, but he soon exclaimed, “It kinda tickles—” and he was gone.

Tina laughed and gestured for someone else to go. “I’ll finish and put the fire out.”

“Thank you, dear,” Charlotte said, vanishing within.

Credence met Newt’s smile before he too stepped forward. “Just wait a moment for me to step out of the fireplace on the other side. I imagine the London flat is already cramped.”

The fire bloomed with peridot sparks, and Newt was gone. Credence glanced at Tina, who likewise gave him a reassuring smile. As he stepped under the mantle, Credence felt the movement in his trouser legs that Jacob had felt, but no sooner had he looked down at his legs then a different tile pattern was under his feet. Looking back up, Newt was smiling at him, holding out his hands to help Credence out of the fireplace.

There was some hubbub of the others meeting and hugging Jacqueline Scamander, a woman with long black hair pinned so its waves cascaded over one shoulder, while her kind, deep brown eyes rested in warm skin. She surprised Credence by greeting Newt in a warm voice and kissing both of his cheeks. He smiled shyly but did not seem surprised, then again it was clearly a Scamander thing, kissing.

Tina came through the fire and once all of the introductions were made she apologized, “I feel bad for saying goodbye just after hello.”

“Goodbye? There’s no such thing as goodbye,” Jacqueline smiled understandingly. “We may have met through connections but now you may come via personal request, and I insist you do, whenever you like. Besides, if you are friends with Newt we will certainly meet again. I won’t let my baby go without an uncle.”

The book spines on their living room bookshelf had distracted Newt but he now peeked at her innocently. Tina and Queenie looked at Theseus as if they shared one thought. The man scratched the back of his head, equally proud and bashful of his soft-spoken yet sharp wife.

Claude chuckled. “We selfishly kept them until the last minute. It won’t be long before we’re all together again. Now then, before we make you late.”

He opened his arm, to which Queenie eagerly went to hug him while Charlotte kissed Tina’s cheeks. Jacqueline said to Newt, “You must give me a proper jar of your tea blend, you know,” as she hugged him again. “No more of your single serving parcels in your letters.”

Theseus blurted, “You _write_ to each other?”

“Why not?” his wife interrogated. “We met in the hospital and he’s been worrying about you just as much as you do him. Honestly, it’s ridiculous how you two can’t just talk to one another.”

Theseus grumpily pulled Newt to him and kissed his cheeks before he left another on his mouth. “Remember what I said,” he murmured. Newt nodded before they embraced for a long moment and then Claude had his turn.

“Credence,” Charlotte said. He turned to her and glanced at her open hands. “May I bid you adieu? In my way?”

He blinked and realized what she meant. Silently he nodded, and he felt her hands gently slide on either side of his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss his cheeks, and then she lifted onto her toes for his forehead. The press of her lips was soft and tickled a little. As she lowered onto her heels, her thumbs stroked his cheeks. “You’re handsome. Did you know? Try not to shy from looking up on occasion. You have wonderful eyes.”

Those eyes widened, having no idea how to absorb her words. She grinned, moving her hands to the front of his robe. “Good luck at Hogwarts, dear. Send our regards to Albus.”

He nodded once and not a moment passed before he was swept into Claude’s embrace. “I put some almond croissants in your lunch. Newt has them all in his case. Pace yourself so you don’t get cavities.”

*******

Theseus and Jacqueline lived along the edge of Hyde Park; lovely lodgings in a relatively quiet area but a good distance from Kings Cross Station. Credence recognized the mechanisms of the Underground, however, and a train ride later, they were in the right station. Similar to the kiosk in which Newt had bought the tickets to his parents’ town, the ticket master asked a question only a wizard would understand, and soon Credence was accepting a ticket with an old fashioned design stamped on it.

“Platform nine and three-quarters?” Jacob read. He laughed, “I didn’t know platforms came in quarters here.”

“They don’t,” Newt stated, and then flashed a smile. Jacob and Tina exchanged glances but Newt’s step was quick, easily slipping through the morning crowd.

Queenie laughed as an attendant checking Newt’s case gave them pause. She patted Credence’s shoulders. “We’re finally going!”

Newt looked back at them, meeting Credence’s smile with his own. Taking his case, he reached his hand back in offering. “This next part has a bit of a trick to it.”

Credence saw the mischief in his eyes and took his hand. Newt leapt into a bit of a run, ignoring station employees telling them to walk. Credence looked up at the platform signs they passed under: nine and ten.

“Where’s—”

Newt grinned back at him. “It’s just like entering the museum. Would you follow me?”

Newt’s pace never slowed. “Yes,” Credence answered honestly.

Newt’s smile was bright as he turned back to lead them straight toward one of the brick barriers. With sharp clarity, Credence realized, _Museum? The only museum we’ve been to is—_

The familiar rush of air moved passed him as if he was moving quickly yet not at all. The light changed and he gazed around a new platform entirely. It was dark apart for the entrance of the tracks giving light to the crimson train waiting for its passengers. Wizards and witches in large feathered hats of all colours stood around the platform, robes over unique heels setting them apart from their previous muggle passersby. The Goldsteins and Jacob came through the barrier, Jacob’s eyes widely mirroring Credence’s awe and the sisters’ glee. The corner of Jacob’s mouth curved in a smile. “A train, huh?”

Newt looked at him. “Unimpressive?”

“Well it’s no hot air balloon,” Tina reminded smugly.

Newt took the jape with grace and led them to their carriage. “Enjoy your journey, gentlemen,” the ticket taker said after punching their tickets. Credence could hear him wishing the ladies the same as Newt guided them through the narrow corridor. On one side were doors into individual rooms, one of which was entirely free. The five of them filed in, the facing benches enough to seat them each as well as Newt’s case comfortably, especially once Newt set it on the seat and climbed inside.

“Two chocolate frogs when the trolley goes by, please,” he requested, leaving some sickles on the seat before he vanished. He popped back up, “You should know we won’t arrive until the evening so you’re welcome to come in here to pass the time.”

They each stood to climb into the case.

*******

Jacob came through the caravan bearing the various sweets requested from the trolley. “The pumpkin pasties smell great. Here ya go.”

Tina took one of the cauldron cakes as she chewed her portion of Claude’s lunch. Newt accepted the chocolate frogs and handed one to Credence, who was preoccupied with keeping the black foal from stealing his croissant. The challenge immediately switched to the niffler sniffing and reaching for the parcel.

“That’s a good sign,” Newt chimed. “The specialty cards have gold or silver leaf. Since the war took precious and durable metals, leprechaun gold has replaced the cards’ embellishments. The gold stops shining after some hours. Only goblins and nifflers can tell the difference. That will be one for the collection.”

Credence tore open the package and a deep brown frog leapt out, landing on the foal’s beak and then the grass to be chased and finally caught. Meanwhile, Credence lifted the shimmering card out to see the witch swathed in a medieval sapphire gown and hair decorations that were not of this century.

Newt peaked over his hands and said, “Rowena Ravenclaw! She’s a founder of Hogwarts.” He pulled his own out while keeping a firm hold on the chocolate. “Merlin. He’s quite common.”

“So these are like the baseball cards of the wizarding world,” Jacob narrated, accepting the card from Credence. He read, _“Rowena Ravenclaw was the founder of Ravenclaw house at Hogwarts. Beautiful and intelligent, she was the most brilliant witch of her time…_ That’s it? I wanna know what she did to be so brilliant—oh!”

He had turned the card over to see the witch tapping her nose keenly before she walked right out of the card. He shared a stunned look with Credence. “Where’d she go?”

Newt smirked. “Figures of magical portraits don’t stay long in their frames. She’ll return eventually.” He tapped his wand against the frog, returning it to immobile chocolate.

Jacob handed the card back to Credence as Tina remarked, “And how exactly would you know a niffler can tell the difference?”

Newt was caught with the head of chocolate in his mouth while he handed the rest to Credence. “I must’ff readit sumwhere.”

“Ah huh,” she confirmed dubiously.

*******

“We’ll be there within the hour,” Newt said. They had since moved back to their seats to watch the English hills give way to the Scottish moors, rebelliously lush and green despite the season. A sunset cast the sky orange and the waters lilac while the greens flushed blue. Credence’s fingertips rested on the frame of the glass, his breath fogging over the surface as all colours left the landscape and night reigned.

Suddenly, uncontrollably, his heart rattled and leapt into his throat. Twisting himself sideways, he shuffled between pairs of knees to reach Newt’s case and climbed down the ladder. The others looked between themselves, silently understanding.

Jacob’s fingers danced a rhythm on his knees before he stood. “I think this oughta be me,” he said, and Newt lifted a hand to steady him on his way down.

Once inside, Jacob glanced around. Credence was nowhere to be found, but a nundu cub was loping toward a tent with an open flap. Coming over to peek inside, Jacob saw Credence sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest while the nundu seemed intent on opening his lap for its own bed.

Jacob took some steps back, scuffed his shoe and sniffed to create some noise to announce his presence. Credence did not jump, but Jacob knew fear when he saw it. “Mind if I join ya? It’s okay if you don’t wanna. I just figured fear loves company.”

Credence thought about it and nodded before apologizing, “I don’t have anywhere to sit.”

“Nah, I’ve sat on worse, believe me,” Jacob smiled, lowering with ease.

“Fear?” Credence repeated. “Why are you scared?”

Jacob took a breath. “Well, to be honest, I think I got lucky at Ilvermorny. The headmistress loves Tina and Queenie. These kinda places,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t really have the right to be here. I don’t have magic like you do. I have t’depend on human decency to let me be a guest here, and well…we know how decency doesn’t come with bein’ human. You gotta learn it, and each time you meet someone it’s a lottery whether they’ll have learned it or not. Magic’s got nothin’ to do with it but it can sure add to a bias.”

The nundu celebrated her success by lounging on Credence’s legs, her claws pricking his trousers. “No one’s said if Dumbledore is nice,” he murmured. “Everyone says he’s brilliant or crazy but no one ever mentions kindness.”

Jacob surprised him by uttering a sound of mirth. “Hm! Sounds like someone we know, huh?”

Credence looked at him as Jacob pointedly eyed the nundu on his lap, her spikes fluttering with her purrs. “Look, I’m not what most people would call ‘intelligent.’ I’ve never had the brains for complicated thinking, but I know folks are like magnets. We attract people who are like us and we repel the ones not like us. There are some other relationships in between but that’s where things get too complicated for me to care much about. I know I trust Newt. And if this Dumbledore guy is okay in Newt’s book, then I’ll buy the volume, you know what I mean?”

Credence nodded, his hands absentmindedly resting on the feline and scratching her cheek. “Newt said something like that once, back at Ilvermorny. Souls cut from the same cloth, I think.”

“Ooph, that’s good. That’s real good. Newt said that? That oughta be a good sign then. Newt thinks highly of this guy; all the Scamanders do, apparently.” Jacob looked around them, properly taking in the room. “This is nice, having your own place… Have I seen this tent before?”

“I don’t know,” Credence replied.

“Yeah…me neither,” he concluded. "But it's nice, and the company's good." He chuckled as Hector the foal arrived.

Above, Tina kept an eye on Newt. Not unlike Credence, he had gone contemplatively quiet. Silence was not abnormal from him but an unexpressive face was. Newt was uncharacteristically inanimate. Tina glanced at Queenie who visibly shared her concern.

“Newt.”

“Hm?” he hummed, blinking as he looked up at her.

“You okay?”

“Hm,” he uttered again, nodding and looking elsewhere and nowhere.

A moment passed before Tina said, “Are you worried because you were expelled?”

Newt frowned and shook his head once. “No, no, Professor Dumbledore’s assured me I’m welcome.”

More silence. “Is it…Dumbledore you’re anxious about? Or someone else we’re going to meet?”

“Mm,” he uttered, the sound indifferent as he was lost in thought, chewing his lip. Realizing what she said he shook his head, “No. No.”

The sisters exchanged glances again.

*******

“Well cut my belly and cook me into haggis. Newt Salamander.”

All at once the lamps within the Hog’s Head bloomed with light, much to the annoyance of the patrons eating or drinking their dinner. The barman was an impressive man of stature and build whose growing beard covered certain scars on his face. Mostly.

“Close enough,” Newt laughed, ducking his head. “How are you, Mr.—”

“Curious,” he answered curtly as he came around the bar to face Newt. Credence stared up at those striking blue eyes framed by waves of chestnut hair. “And wondering why you’d choose my dusty abode instead of the Three Broomsticks' perfumed mattresses. You think just because I let you call me Abe once I’ll let you stay for free?”

Newt silently glanced back at his skeptical company and then leaned forward to say something for the barkeep’s ears alone. Credence frowned slightly at hearing something like, “Your pie crusts are flakier than Madame Rosmerta’s.”

The man guffawed and with a gesture of his hand, the lamps returned to their dim glow. “The attic’s yours. Mind the rats. They like to cuddle.”

He moved the chairs of an available table, although it was more like lifting and throwing them down. “You’ll sit here,” he barked. “I’ll get ye some food.”

“Thank you, sir,” Newt said.

“I’m not a sir. That title is reserved for my ponce of a brother…whenever he gets it,” the barman growled as he passed behind Credence. He looked at Newt, who did not seem perturbed in the slightest. Or no more than usual.

Returning as quickly as he’d gone, the barman set down a potpie almost as large as their table along with a pile of plates and a spade for them to dig their slices. As if the table was not covered enough, he cast a bottle of wine, a pitcher of water, and glasses to arrive at their table. “My clientele has low standards. I expect the same from you,” he declared as he filled Tina and Queenie’s glasses himself.

Newt sliced the pie with the spade and set the first piece on Credence’s plate as the latter peered around the Inn. The barman’s statement on low standards was a unique way of putting it. The patrons and matrons around them looked like they belonged just as easily on wanted posters as they did in the pub. Credence scooped pie onto his fork and chewed. It was delicious. The peas popped against his teeth and the gravy was savory and absorbed into the pastry nicely. The red wine was far too dry but it cleaned his palette and left his complexion invigorated.

The best way to the attic was the staircase on the exterior of the building, but the Leaky Cauldron’s owner had been right about its spiders, so Credence listened for mice or rats—

A sharp hiss greeted them as the door bumped against a body much larger than a rat’s. Newt carefully opened it all the way and dozens of eyes glowed back at them. “The exact opposite of a rat problem,” Tina laughed as a cat as white as snow apart for its soot smudges did figure eights around her feet.

“Mreow!” one complained as Newt set his case down.

“Pardon me,” he hushed. Reaching an arm inside, the tinkering of glass jars could be heard before he lifted a tall cylinder capped with cork. It looked to be full of dried herbs or spices, which he took a handful of and held it aloft for the cats to decide their interest.

“Bribery,” Queenie giggled as a cat so dark they could only see its green eyes approached and sniffed the herbs before it writhed on the floor. Carefully shaking out the catnip, Newt arranged a line of it around the room.

“No point being at odds with one’s roommates,” Newt concluded, capping the jar and setting back inside the case. He and the Goldsteins went around the room, lighting the lamps to reveal a lofty room with four beds as well as futons rolled up. Everything was protected from dust and cat hair by sheets. After a little sprucing up, Newt announced, “Professor Dumbledore asked to know when I arrived. Is anyone staying here?”

“I will,” Tina offered. “He’s only expecting the two of you. I don’t want to wear out a welcome the night we arrive.”

“He knows you’re here,” Newt contrasted. “You won’t be imposing at all.”

“That’s okay,” Queenie said, scratching a tabby’s chin. “We’ll meet him in the morning. Jacob, we’ll take care of the creatures in the meantime, won’t we?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Jacob assured, and then hesitated. “But could you put that, uh, barrier over your case just, you know, in the chance something wants out?”

Newt did so, and soon afterward residual snow from a recent snowfall crunched under Credence’s feet as they traversed the street of Hogsmeade. Credence gazed up at the tall and steep rooftops, some of the chimneys gently billowing smoke as well as pink or blue fumes. “How far is Hogwarts?” he asked.

Newt looked at him and then nodded in front of them. “It’s just there. The curfew is in place so only some teachers have candles lit.”

Credence looked ahead of them, puzzled and trying to find… _Oh,_ he realized as he looked up and up. The winter sky was clear and glowed lilac from the stars behind it, but obscuring it was the vast silhouette of the castle. Like tiny eyes winking back at them, candles and torches within the castle flickered.

“It’s a bit of a walk, are you comfortable?” Newt asked.

“I’m fine,” Credence nodded. “The wine is warm.”

Newt laughed. “The Three Broomsticks has nicer lodgings but when you carry your own, your priorities change. Though the Hog’s Head comforts the less reputable members of society, they are less judgmental than those who would stay at the Three Broomsticks. Discrete, more like. The drinks are horrible but the food is better.”

“But you’re not like the other people there. The barman seemed to like you,” Credence commented.

“Thank you,” Newt chuckled. “He’s been very kind to me when he did not need to be. Mind your step. They’re docile creatures but they’re far better on ice than we are. Trust where you see human footprints more than theirs.”

“Creatures? Oh,” Credence blurted upon seeing a variety of black winged…things grazing over the road. “Those aren’t hippogriffs,” he observed as the sound of something wet tore. Credence recognized the ears of a rabbit in the mud while the creature ate its innards tranquilly.

“Thestrals,” Newt introduced as two looked up at them. “The school uses them to pull the carriages for students fresh off the train. Of course most of them think magic is animating the carriages.”

“You said they’re invisible,” Credence recalled. “Why can we see them?”

“You have a wonderful memory,” Newt appraised. “Thestrals are unique. Only people who have seen death can see them. Or it might be better to say: only people who understand death can see them.”

From a pocket, Newt revealed one of the cloth napkins from the Hog’s Head full of meat from the pie. Pointing his wand at them, the meat sizzled, but instead of cooking, it was reversing back into raw flesh. Offering some of the chunks to the nearest thestral, it silently approached and accepted it. Another approached and Credence could see its glistening black beak, skeletal head and glowing white eyes. Newt offered the napkin to him; he held the meat and the thestral was remarkably gentle in its taking of it.

“For some reason the cats seem…spookier,” Credence stated, earning a laugh from Newt. Credence smiled softly at the sound.

“There is something poetic about thestrals as they are synonymous with death in many ways. Sinister though they look, they are peaceful and clever, because death is equally peaceful and certain. We all die; it’s living that’s hard and the transition between the two that people fear. Thestrals are too smart to be destructive. If a threat is present, they simply leave. This makes them faithful hosts to students returning from holiday. Should a threat arise unexpectedly, they would take the carriages somewhere safe.” He paused a moment to feed another of the creatures. “That’s the only reason the ministry classifies them as dangerous: because of their intelligence.”

Credence looked around them since they had become the center of the creatures’ focus. “I’m sorry, that’s it,” Newt said as one of them licked at the cloth. As if they understood him, they dispersed simultaneously.

Newt folded the cloth and pocketed it once more and continued onward as Credence asked, “Are they common?”

“I would say so,” Newt pondered, “at least on this side of the world. I’ve seen them here, in Europe, and to the north in Norway and other Scandinavian countries. They prefer forests with not a lot of ground foliage. They need room to gallop and fly. The denser forests of the orient would be cumbersome to them. They also fare a bit better in the cold.”

“When did you start seeing them?” he asked before he realized, “I’m sorry. That’s too personal.”

Newt peeked at him and then answered honestly, “It’s not so much personal as it is difficult for me answer. I’m not sure what initiated my ability to see them, but I would say it was the death of hippogriffs on my mother’s estate. Most wizards would think you must see a human die to understand death, but children can learn many things from animals. Pets teach them how to play gently, how to take care of something other than one’s self, and delicate social skills, depending on the animal. Of course, being with hippogriffs, I was rather forthcoming as a child so upon arriving at school, I realized I was socially inept. I was always able to see them here, so this added to my peculiarities.”

“I wanted a pet, once,” Credence admitted. “But she said animals in the house were food or vermin. She never specified a difference between the pigeons or pets.”

Newt did not need to ask whom he spoke of. He nodded, “It is some sort of irony that you’ve lived in a suitcase with dozens of creatures, then,” he smiled gently. “And you’re very good with them.”

Credence shrugged. “Only because you’ve taught me.”

Newt surprised him by laughing. “You must allow your conscience to give you more credit. The first time Jacob was in my case, he nearly ran screaming from the graphorns. Admittedly, you were hypothermic upon seeing them the first time, but—”

“I fainted,” Credence reminded. “I’m not sure that’s better.”

He chuckled. “It’s my fault for not cleaning out the arctic nest from the purse you were in. But I’ve been very happy to have you as my guest. You’ve been delightful company to me.”

Credence stopped, causing Newt to double back. He met Credence’s look of affronted surprise before the youth realized, “You’re not staying at Hogwarts…I guess that was more than I should have expected.”

“No it isn’t,” Newt said. “I’ll be here as long as it takes. I still have a book to write, after all. Goodness knows how long that will take. Did you manage to look at one of my drafts?”

“Yes,” he said, “but it’s different from the notes you put in your books.”

“My school books?” Newt wondered. “Those were when I was a boy, and bored.”

“Yes, but…I,” he sighed and steeled himself. “I like your notes. They’re interesting.”

“More interesting than my book,” Newt finished, understanding.

“It’s not… _not_ interesting,” Credence consoled. “It could just use more…something. You put descriptions of the animals but could you not add illustrations?”

“I’ve been told the budget does not allow it,” Newt replied as if he had asked for this very thing before. “The price of an illustrator certainly isn't anything to complain of since I already have a supply of drawings available,” he complained.

“Maybe…” Credence thought about it. “You have a chapter on the history of creatures.”

“Mmhm,” Newt nodded.

“What if…you shortened it? You could add the historical anecdotes to the creatures’ descriptions to make them more...living? It will be more of a conversation instead of listing facts.”

Newt listened with open ears and processed this input deeply. “That’s brilliant,” he said quietly, meeting Credence’s gaze. “There’s no hope of keeping a student’s interest if they can’t last through the first chapter. I wouldn’t have even added it but the publisher insists upon it.”

“How would you have started the book?”

“With a story of my own,” Newt answered readily. “Everyone likes a story filled with danger and excitement. There is a delicate difference between a true story and history but the results are someone falling asleep or turning the page.”

“Is there no way to combine the two?” Credence wondered.

Newt smiled his soft smile. “I think so. Thank you, Credence.”

Credence felt his own features curve and his cheeks warmed just as Newt looked up at the towering wrought iron gate. On either side were high plinths on which statues of winged boars stood guard.

“Oh. Ehm…” Newt uttered. He glanced at Credence, who met his gaze expectantly. As if deciding on something, Newt lifted his wand and pitched lightning into the sky as if he was summoning Frank—

“Normally messages are sent via patronus,” a voice chuckled behind them. 

Credence rotated. As if he had always been there, stood a man of strong height and dark honeyed hair long enough to have tossed to one side and out of the way. Half-moon spectacles glittered atop his scalp, further holding his hair back while he stood casually in the winter night. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, impervious to the cold while his waistcoat was a startling, vibrant purple. Possibly more surprising was his clean-shaven, handsome face, accentuated by a nose that could not have been born as crooked as it was.

“Professor,” Newt sighed, sounding deeply relieved.

The man grinned and approached, "Hello, Newt."

Credence saw Newt step forward to eagerly shake his hand before the man put his arm around Newt so they could face Credence.

“You must be Credence,” he said, his arm sliding along Newt's shoulders as he left him to offer the same hand to Credence. “I’m Albus Dumbledore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t wanna hear any crap about, ew brothers kissing, a’right -.0 Leave the incest to Game of Thrones.
> 
> Also, expect chapters to come a bit more slowly from now on ç_ç last year of undergrad is approaching. Pray for me or whatever you do.


	16. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus gives them a tour of Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> START PLAYING YOUR HP SOUNDTRACKS ~~~

“An absolute pleasure,” Dumbledore said as Credence placed his hand in his. He looked at the man’s hair again. It was almost long enough to drape around his shoulders; a bit rugged or rebellious for a teacher to have. But then his gaze landed on those bright blue eyes… _my ponce of a brother…_

Credence shook the thought away. “You too, sir.”

“Let’s move this inside. A stroll in this climate will have ripened your appetites for a good pot of tea. I have new cinnamon candies that spark when you tap them on the table.”

Moving passed them, he pushed on the gates. The lock gave way as if it was never shut in the first place.

Albus Dumbledore’s gait was strong and sure. He walked with his hands in his pockets, looking upward like Newt usually did at the castle as if nothing could possibly trip him. Credence glanced behind them to see the gates closing on their own as well as a faint blue rush of light starting from the ground and vanishing at the top of the gates. It reminded him of the barrier around the Scamanders’ property.

“Good journey, you two? The Atlantic is vast, the British Isles less so,” Dumbledore opened conversationally as they crossed through the grounds. The path was long and flanked by forest before the trees gave way to a green slope that was painted with smears of snow. The fine gravel crunched under their feet as it led up to the stairs of the castle. The pointed arch of the double doors opened for them, casting the stairs in light. Credence observed the finely crafted iron battening the thick beams of the door as they passed through them. The iron design was almost floral—

“I must apologize for the lackluster first impression. This late, it would cause too much of a commotion to open the front entrance,” Albus said.

Credence looked up at him and saw a waiting expression. He glanced at Newt, and then back at Dumbledore. “This isn’t the front?”

Albus grinned. “I’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow; as much as I can at least, before Newt does a far better job of it. Hogwarts, I’m sure, will do her own job of impressing her guests without any help. Speaking of, we seem to be missing three.”

“It’s impossible to know Hogwarts better than you do,” Newt contrasted, “though you do have classes to teach. Tina, Queenie, and Jacob did not want to impose.”

“How kindly absurd,” Albus chortled, turning to lead the way up a wide staircase. “I’ll have to convince them to be thoroughly obnoxious, then, as guests should be. Hogwarts is nothing if not generous to those she hosts. I expect all of you to move into my apartments tomorrow as well.”

“It’s all right. That’s too much,” Newt tried to refuse.

“Oh but it isn’t,” Albus paused on the first landing of the stairs. “I’d recommend a swift step, gentlemen. The stairs change if you’re not quick about it.”

Credence did not know what that meant apart from Newt jogging up the stairs. Credence followed suit until a low scraping craned his neck upwards… He wasn’t sure what he was seeing until the very level he was on smoothly began to lean to the left. He lost his footing entirely and Newt caught him with an arm around his middle. “Easy,” Newt soothed, “there are vanishing stairs as well.”

“Why?” Credence breathed, righting himself.

“It makes things more interesting,” Albus smiled from where he leaned against the stone banister, waiting for it to stop moving. “A poetic explanation would be to say that Hogwarts is alive, but really it’s just particularly talented children with wicked senses of humour at work. Either they figure out how to make their charms permanent or no one is bothered enough to remove them. I hope you’ve told him about the ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” Credence repeated. “Theseus and Newt mentioned them once, but it sounded like they were talking about people, not dead ones.”

“It does take rather special circumstances for a soul to straddle life and death, true, but we have our fair share of them,” Dumbledore confirmed. “There’s one now.”

They went up another flight of stairs but not before a silver visage passed under them along another stairway. “Good evening, Friar,” Dumbledore called.

A plush man—who was blatantly _transparent—_ wearing a medieval religious man’s habit looked up at them. “Good morrow, Albus! The usual night stroll? Such a good evening for it—Newton?”

Credence’s back slammed against the stairway as the ghost flew in a silvery blur up to them. Half of the friar passed through Credence, feeling like the coldest of waters splashing on his veins.

“NEWTON!! OH HOO! You’re back! Really? Is it…” The friar gasped and seemed already on the verge of tears. “You’re not dead are you? Oh heaven, how did it happen?”

Newt smiled, “No, Pascal, I’m very alive.”

Credence almost expected the man to literally bubble with glee as he went flying through the wall. Newt smiled apologetically at his blunt shock. “Each house has their assigned ghost. The Fat Friar is Hufflepuff’s, my house.”

Taking Credence’s hand, Newt placed it in the bend of his elbow to warm the arm through which the Friar had passed. Upon the next landing, Albus led them down a corridor with a couple of paintings, the occupants of which were audibly snoring. As they walked past a suit of armour, a slow creak of metal rang in the air until Credence looked back and the suit’s helm jerked back into place, facing forward.

Credence gaped as his arm squeezed Newt’s and he spun around to ask, “Are there ghosts in the armor?”

“No, they just move on occasion,” Newt said pleasantly. “But one you should know ahead of time is Peeves. He’s not a ghost, he is a poltergeist, and he makes it the sole mission of his existence to be an extravagant nuisance. He is not altogether cruel but if he can make a laugh at your expense, he will, even if he is the only one laughing…which can be its own genre of cruelty when it comes too often.”

“The residential bully,” Albus reiterated as they came to the end of the corridor where an impressive painting of two men playing chess hung over the expanse of the wall. “Not to worry, however. There are ways Peeves can be dealt with.”

He turned once more to the painting. “Knight to E-four.”

One of the men laughed and moved his piece, “Check,” he said.

His partner looked at Albus accusatorially. “Why can’t your password ever be in my favour, eh?”

“It is. Queen to E-four,” Albus supplied.

The man looked back down at his pieces and realized happily, “Check for you, but checkmate for me! Thank you for the knight, good sir.”

The painting released from the wall to swing open as if on a hinge. An open doorframe was on the other side, and another branch of corridors. “This is where the teachers stay during the year, apart for the headmaster and those who prefer to live near their house dormitories. I myself am in charge of Gryffindor House but the teacher’s room there is at the base of the dormitory tower and I have grown much accustomed to a view.”

He turned a knob and a small, unimpressive room opened before them. Credence looked around at the other doors in the antechamber. Dumbledore narrated, gesturing loosely at the doors, “These will be your lodgings. You need only ask for anything you desire, which shall be easy since I am just here.”

He swept through the door adjacent the others and a vast room opened to them. Like a tall egg, Albus’s room was lofty yet comfortable, with a winding staircase leading to a loft for his bed and his desired view of the grounds. On the lower level, piles of books taller than himself were topped with odd trinkets that glittered in the moving light… Credence looked up to see not a chandelier, but a glass orb in which a bundle of flames writhed; the glass diffracted its light over the room.

He looked back down at the melodic cry of something he actually found familiar: a bird. A large red creature rested on the golden rod that made the ornate newel post of the stairway. The creature revealed itself to be quite large by flapping its wingspan. Albus chuckled as Newt lifted his other arm, inviting the creature to fly to him. Newt looked to Credence, “A phoenix.”

Credence’s features opened with interest before the creature did not so much as land on Newt’s arm, as it did grab him and yank them both in the direction of a jar of floating flames. Albus warned pleasantly, “Remember how strong he is, because Fawkes never forgets those who open his sweets jar. He does enjoy his fireflies.”

As they were placed before the jar, Credence saw they were not small flames, but winged insects whose bodies were transparent so the luminous orange innards were visible. Unlatching the lid, Newt waited for two of them to wander out and then shut it as Fawkes snatched them up. Sated, the creature stepped higher on Newt’s arm to rest upon his shoulder.

“He’s bigger than the augurey,” Credence said.

Dumbledore perked up from where he was pouring tea. “You have an Irish phoenix?”

“She came with me from Ilvermorny,” Newt confirmed. “I…left my case at the Hog’s Head.”

Albus met his gaze. “Then you’ll be bringing it here, of course.”

“But—” Newt tried, but Albus interrupted smoothly.

“I don’t expect you to wear the same clothes during your stay here, or to return to the Hog’s Head for every change.” He eyed Newt keenly. “Your luggage comes with you.” And that was that.

Credence peeked at Newt but his attention strayed to Fawkes coming behind Newt’s shoulders to inspect him. The bird twittered musically, its head tilting this way and that as he gazed at Credence. Newt smiled at their exchange and brought them all to the table to sit with Albus. The pot and cups were glass with golden rims and decoration; the tea visibly crimson though more transparent than wine. Lifting his cup, Credence smelled both cinnamon and lemon and something else; tasting it warmed his belly but a strict tartness hit his tonsils. Albus set a jar of amber sugar on the table before an idea inspired him.

“Ah! Here,” Albus said joyfully, dropping a red candy into Credence’s cup. The pellet sparked and sizzled; a small firework on the surface of the tea. “Cinnasparks,” he introduced, revealing a bowl of the candies. “Though Sinful Sparks would have been more appropriate. I’ve already refilled this dish twice today.”

Credence squinted against the flap of wings; Fawkes landed on the back of Dumbledore’s chair, where he twittered a song. Albus smiled softly to himself. “You can be sure a silencing charm is on this room since he is…rather vocal. But we may also speak freely. How are you feeling, Credence?”

Puzzled, Credence nodded slightly. “Good…the tea’s good.”

Albus smiled. “I am glad you like it, but I was referring to your recovery. Carrying an obscurus is no leisurely thing.”

Newt coughed on his tea as Credence froze. The latter peeked at him and murmured, “He told you?”

“No, no,” Albus chuckled kindly. “I like to keep current on domestic and international events, and too many things aligned. An obscurus in New York. Newt being in New York. Newt’s uncanny ability to befriend unique beings. Newt suddenly writes to me asking me to meet a remarkable young man. Mathematics are more difficult, really. With your permission, I’d like to discuss these matters, but only if you are willing, and it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Comfortably ending the topic there, Albus sipped his tea and took off his spectacles to set them on the table. After several moments, Credence said, “What exactly did you want to talk about?”

Albus perked up. “How’s your spine?”

Credence’s brow furrowed. “My spine? It’s…fine.”

“And your other bones? No aches or pains? Skeletons can be dreadfully intricate. You’d think since we all have one we’d know how to take care of them, but we have a marvelous physician for that: the Pomfrey family has served Hogwarts invaluably well. Children are notoriously made of rubber but every so often they do break. Adults even more so. I am intimately aware of how far away the ground is. Should you feel even the slightest bit poorly, don’t hesitate to visit the hospital wing.”

Credence was more puzzled than ever. He looked at Newt and asked, “Should I feel sick?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Newt shook his head.

“I apologize, I am raising unnecessary anxiety,” Albus said. “If you feel perfectly well, then you are perfectly well. It is just that an obscurus is a magical parasite, and magic rests within our very bones. Victims of it often appear emaciated and fragile.” He smiled suddenly. “You do look the exact opposite. I am happy about it.”

Credence sank some in his chair. “I’ve been eating croissants…”

Dumbledore guffawed. “Good! Keep enjoying them, then. We so often get swept up in our magic that we forget about the corporeal parts of ourselves. I am pleased you’ve arrived in good health. That will allow us to greet magical instruction without hindrance.”

Credence brightened as Albus stood from the table and went to a bookshelf. “When will that be? Newt’s given me his books.”

“I’d expect nothing less. I imagine you are already finished with first year instruction. Possibly even further along, given your talents.”

“Talents?” Credence looked to Newt.

He explained, “In our letters, I mentioned you learn quickly.”

“Do you have your wand on you, Credence?”

“Yes, sir?” Credence asked with the tone of a question.

“I suggest you have it ready. I’d like to quiz you. I apologize in advance; ‘tis the nature of a professor.”

It was all the warning Credence received, as Albus swung a book in his direction like a disk. No spells came to mind; Credence still had his wand in his breast pocket so all he could do was raise a hand in defense…

The book froze in the air, and even more so, the binding fizzled and broke apart, raining pages over them. Credence’s gaped, jerkily looking toward Newt, who only blinked tranquilly as pages fell over him. “I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t ready!”

“That was the point. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Albus said. “Would you repeat after me? _Tempus reditus.”_

Credence did so, and the pages flew once more in the air, finding each other as the covers sandwiched them, and the book swung back into Albus’s hand. “Impressive,” he voiced. “Immensely so. That spell is as close as we get to controlling time apart from a time turner, and you didn’t even need to hold your wand. It can only be used to rewind moments for objects. _Reparo,_ is the usual choice.”

He slid the book back onto the shelf and faced them with a smile. “I won’t surprise you like that again. I wanted the measure of your ability.”

He returned to the table and popped a sweet into his mouth. Credence ventured, “And?”

Albus lifted his gaze as if he already had other things on his mind. “Oh, you’re marvelous. Your magic is already well advanced. Have you noticed things happening without the aid of a wand?”

Credence peeked at Newt and answered quietly, “Yes…the plants in my room change when I don’t mean for them to.”

Albus nodded. “That’s nothing to fear. I daresay that’s extraordinarily normal. In the latter years of instruction we teach students how to cast spells without speaking. Eventually some of them do not need direct contact at all with their wands. These individuals are less common but no less present. I do not think the task for you is to memorize spells or the technique of wand movements. I think your only challenge will be to keep up with your magic.”

Albus smiled, and Credence realized it was calming. The professor was not daunted in the least. But Credence could not help but ask, “What if…I can’t keep up with it?”

Dumbledore’s eyes glistened, his smile somber. “I am not much for religion, but muggles have a phrase I think is apt here: we are never given more than we can handle. I believe the first step to succeeding, is knowing that you _can._ And if nothing else, I will give you the tools to succeed. The rest is up to you. I’m going to give you something before you leave—properly, no throwing business. It is a book on mediation which, though a bit fluffy, has proven surprisingly useful. Read it in your leisure time; we may discuss all of your questions afterward.”

*******

They walked down the street of Hogsmeade, Credence feeling more awake than ever. He was bubbling with questions as he held the thin volume in his hands. “What is meditation?”

“It is a breathing technique to help you control your thoughts. It is a gentle practice in control,” Newt provided.

“Do all students learn it?”

“No, and I don’t think many of the teachers even know Dumbledore believes in such things.”

“Why not? Doesn’t it work?”

Newt laughed. “Yes, I would say it works but it is an eastern practice while western minds can be difficult to convince. Just as whatever medicine I know is from the east, Professor Dumbledore picked up Fawkes and some other tricks during his travels.”

“Fawkes is beautiful,” Credence declared wistfully.

“I agree,” Newt smiled.

“Are they actually related? Phoenixes and augureys?”

Newt gave it some thought. “I would say phoenixes are closer to thunderbirds than augureys. It’s more of a poetic name, Irish phoenix, and they die as any other bird whereas phoenixes combust and are reborn from their own ashes.”

Credence stared at him bluntly. “Really? They’re immortal, then?”

Newt laughed again, enjoying this burst of curiosity from him. “I’m not sure about that but they are certainly unique. And nigh untamable. Fawkes is very special.”

“But you…well you didn’t tame Frank, I guess. How could he have tamed Fawkes?”

Newt shrugged. “I never thought to ask. Perhaps you could during one of your lessons. He would know much more regarding phoenixes than I.”

“Really?” Credence wondered as he opened the book and skimmed over the first passage. “Is meditation difficult?”

“It depends on the circumstances. Some days are successful, others less so.” 

“Then you’ve meditated before?”

“Of course.”

“Why? I never thought you needed help with your magic.”

“I have too many thoughts in my head,” Newt replied. “And…there was a time when I lost control of my magic. Professor Dumbledore helped me silence my demons.”

Credence fell contemplatively quiet. Then, “I didn’t know you had demons. Or can you actually have demons like you can have ghosts?”

Newt guffawed as he found the key to their lodgings. “I was speaking figuratively. And don’t tell Tina or Queenie about the ghosts. I’d like them to discover those personally.”

Credence smiled. “We never saw ghosts at Ilvermorny. They didn’t have suits of armour either.”

Newt twisted the key in the lock. “There are few advantages to Hogwarts’s age but I have them, as long as Peeves doesn’t ruin our competition of academies. Hello.”

Tina lounged on one of the beds with a book while Queenie and Jacob slumbered across the room. Newt whispered, “You could have used my case.”

Tina rolled a shoulder as she sat up. “It’s fine. How was Dumbledore?” she asked Credence.

“He’s nice,” he replied. “He invited everyone to breakfast.”

“And he insists upon us staying in his apartments,” Newt added.

Tina looked at him while she set her book on a bedside table next to a sleeping cat. “Really? Well that’s a shame. Our roommates were so accommodating.”

They looked at the cats sleeping in various states around Jacob, thoroughly claiming a bed so Queenie slept on the one adjacent, holding his outstretched hand. “Would you rather sleep in the case?” Newt offered.

Tina laughed quietly. “It’s okay. Credence, how was your first impression of Hogwarts?”

“Good,” he answered as he opened Newt’s case. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay, goodnight,” she said.

“Night,” he said distractedly.

Tina turned back to Newt with lifted brows. “So it was good then?”

“I think it was overwhelming but in a good way,” Newt supplied.

Inside the case, Credence let his tent flaps fall closed as he readied for bed, but not before trying on Theseus’s wand holster. One of the slim belts was meant to go around his hips and the other around his thigh. The leather was strangely cut, though, in such a way that it could not comfortably be worn as a trouser belt. As he put it on, it hung at an angle; hanging low under one hip while it used the opposite trouser belt loop. This allowed for his wand to rest low enough for him grasp it discretely but readily, as Theseus had promised.

*******

“You said it’s a castle?” Jacob said in the morning as they went through Hogsmeade. “You said first years are eleven? Wouldn’t they get lost?”

“Sometimes,” Newt admitted, “but there are prefects to show them around and first year classes are not so spread out throughout the castle.”

“Prefects?” Queenie said as she walked arm in arm with Jacob.

“Upper classmen given responsibilities,” Newt reiterated.

“Was Theseus a prefect?” Tina guessed.

“No, but he was Head Boy,” Newt said and then explained tersely, “For top marks.”

“You weren’t?” Tina encouraged.

“Only seventh years are Head Boy or Girl,” Newt said.

“Oh,” she realized. Credence looked between them but she quickly changed, “What does Hogwarts usually do for breakfast?”

“A feast, not unlike Ilvermorny. But it’s even more superfluous, if possible.”

Queenie laughed with gleeful anticipation and soon afterward Albus Dumbledore met them at Hogwarts’ gates so he could grant them access and shut it behind them. Today his vest was lime green and his robe was a purple so dark its shadows were black. 

“Good morning, all. I trust you slept horribly so I might feel like a superior host,” he grinned. He met Jacob’s eyes first. “Oh dear. I see you were able to commune with the felines best.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jacob said, rubbing cat hair off his lapel. “Sorry, I’m not really dressed right.”

Albus shook his head. “You may present yourself however you like. It is said about one Victorian headmaster of Hogwarts, that if you were to arrange a meeting in his office you should have expected to see him in his undergarments or nothing at all. By those standards I daresay you are over dressed. But if you’d like, I can make quick work of the hair.”

A grin slowly formed on Jacob’s face. “Yeah! Sure, go ahead.”

As if the cat hair dissolved into nothing, it vanished, but Credence never saw him draw a wand. Jacob looked over himself and said, “Nice…thank you very much. Jacob Kowalski, call me Jacob.”

“I shall,” Dumbledore smiled, accepting his offered hand. “Albus Dumbledore, at your service. Albus or Dumbledore will do, or there have been a variety of other options expertly crafted. This one still calls me Professor.” He sent a smile to Newt. Newt merely pressed his lips together and remained silent.

Albus met Tina and Queenie in turn. “It’s an honor to meet you,” Tina gushed.

“Stop, you’ll make me blush,” Albus teased as he switched to Queenie. “The honour is all mine. How are you, Miss Queenie?”

Queenie could only stare at him. Speechless. “Wow,” she eventually said. Albus gave no qualms as she stared up at him, still shaking his hand. “You’re so…quiet.”

His smiled turned into something nostalgic. “My word, do I have the pleasure of meeting a legilimens?”

“Oh,” Queenie abruptly scoffed, “no one ever thinks of it as a pleasure, 'cept Jacob.”

“Most people have small brains and loud minds. We must forgive them that.”

Queenie gazed at him, processing his words and listening for thoughts until eventually she turned back to Newt, “I like him.”

Newt smiled as Albus laughed and they continued toward the school. Jacob asked, “I just realized, I haven’t felt the same sorta thing I did at Ilvermorny. As soon as we were close to it, I needed to get inside Newt’s case. Why haven’t I felt that at all?”

“A wonderful question,” Albus began. “Do you happen to still have your train ticket?”

“Uh, yeah, somewhere,” Jacob said as he felt his pockets.

“No need to get it. It’s just the ticket grants you access through the wards of Hogsmeade, a wizards’ village. I have given you access to Hogwarts. Have you noticed?”

Jacob vacantly followed his open hand upward, where the structure watching over them was now visible to him. “OH… Wow, magic’s amazing… How do you conceal something like that?” he said wistfully.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Over many centuries, with the help of many witches and wizards. How are you, Credence?”

Credence’s features opened at having been addressed. “I’m good, sir.” He hesitated a moment before he added. “How are you?”

“Famished,” Dumbledore replied. “Though sadly my craving is for chutney this morning. These cravings never do fit the meal we are supposed to have. But I will make do.”

Credence noticed how Dumbledore led them through an alternate route than the one taken last night. It was longer, and ended in a great deal of winding stairs up the mountainside. Albus kept his pace slow and conversational so the elevation was more easily climbed. At the end of the stairs was an impressive bridge overlooking the valley protecting half of Hogwarts. At the end of the bridge was an impressive courtyard surrounded by gothic cloisters, but none of it as impressive as the clock towering above them.

Credence craned his neck to see the clock face, but Queenie sliding her hands around his elbow brought his attention back down to notice the steps leading toward the gargantuan double doors of the school. They were open, revealing a brief, albeit large antechamber, and then the foyer where the exodus of students could be seen leaving for class. The clock's pendulum slowly swung over their heads.

“The main entrance,” Albus smirked by way of introduction. “Breakfast has just finished. We shall have the great hall to ourselves.”

Some of the students noticed them, and those who were not in a hurry called out, “Morning, professor!”

“Good morning, Mitchels. Good morning, Shelley,” he said warmly, and after the last few had rushed out, he entered the great hall. Credence smiled faintly at the lofty surroundings, but his smile faded at the lengths of empty tables. Even the perpendicular table at the end was cleared off. Credence felt Newt’s eyes on him and met his gaze; Newt simply looked upward, and Credence followed…

The ceiling was the sky…or it wasn’t? As the clouds drifted past Credence could see faint glimpses of the rafters.

The teachers’ table slid backwards and three of the chairs came around so they could face one another while they ate, but as Credence sat down across from Newt he looked around, and no one was in the hall apart for them.

He turned back around, and the table was laden with food. His jaw dropped, inducing Albus to chuckle, “What would you like to drink?”

Credence thought about it. “Tea?” he said experimentally.

Right before his eyes, a kettle appeared on a small platform with a flame to burn underneath it, along with a pitcher of juice and condiments for his tea. A moment of silence ensued, the others looking at the food and then at Newt and Dumbledore. The latter gestured to the food. “Please. You needn’t wait on me out of courtesy.”

Newt lifted the kettle and poured tea into the accompanying cups for everyone while Albus did the same with the pumpkin juice. As Newt cut into a slice of quiche, Pickett climbed out of the pocket beneath his lapel to sit on his shoulder. When Albus noticed he chimed, “Oh, and what does he break his fast with?”

“Wood lice and fairy eggs. I’m sorry, Pickett,” Newt said.

“So you’ll be visiting the forest later? Try not to let too many students see you. It’s supposed to be forbidden.”

“The forest we walked by?” Jacob wondered.

“Why’s it forbidden?” Tina asked.

“A great number of communities live there,” Albus explained, “and most of them are territorial. We call it the Forbidden Forest out of warning but it seems to only be taken seriously at night.” An epiphany tilted his head to the side. “You might try visiting the kitchen first.”

In the mean time, Pickett climbed up Newt’s ear and started managing his hair. Credence put a second slice of quiche, and coincidentally the last one, on his plate but no sooner was the dish empty then it refilled as if no one had yet touched the food.

“Do we serve brunch now?” a new voice asked. Credence looked up as Tina and Queenie startled at the ghost sitting on Albus’s other side. Leaning through the table, he looked Newt over. “Is that the youngest Scamander fellow? Welcome back.”

“Hello, Sir Nicholas,” Newt smiled. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Eternal,” the ghost sighed. “The same old head ache.”

Tina and Queenie silently looked at Newt while Jacob chewed contemplatively as Nicholas explained as if they had asked, “It’s the lack of blood flow.”

“Ha!” Jacob barked, lifting his slice of toast as if in cheers. “I hear that.”

“Are you a ghost of a house?” Credence ventured.

Nicholas, eyeing the food forlornly, sat a little straighter. “As a matter of fact, I am. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington of Gryffindor House, at your service…whatever service that may be.”

His gaze landed on the food once more as his head fell into his hand…literally, apart for the strip of silver skin keeping it attached. “It’s rude to stare,” he commented, never looking away from the food. Tina and Queenie exchanged shocked expressions as Jacob blanched and set his fork down.

“How, uh, how many ghosts are there here?” Jacob asked.

Albus gave it some thought. “Fifteen or so.”

“Six decent, the rest are squatters,” Sir Nicholas complained.

“Now, now Nicholas,” Albus soothed. “You’ve spent too much time with Helen again.”

“Tell the Bloody Baron to halt his stalking tendencies and I shall gladly cease. The oaf couldn’t leave her alone in life so he’s making up for lost time. I may be dead but I don’t like being melancholic. Mr. Scamander, are you aware you have a green fellow in your hair?”

*******

“Here we are. You may arrange and decorate however you like, of course,” Dumbledore introduced.

The three doors opposite his room opened, only to reveal that all three went to the same room. The beds were arranged in staggered lofts around the room with winding staircases to them. Opposite the doors was a massive window with ribs of metal holding the panes together. Their view was of the quidditch pitch.

“Will there be a match while we’re here?” Tina smiled.

“Ravenclaw versus Slytherin, in fact,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Tomorrow at noon. You are all more than welcome to come.”

“A game played on broomsticks,” Newt leaned toward Credence as they looked out of the window.

“Flying?” Credence exclaimed, his features opening with something like hope. “Is there a class for that?”

Albus smiled. “There certainly is.”

“I need to get to the kitchens,” Newt announced. He set his case on one of the beds but not before he pulled the twine and brick Credence had not seen since they stayed at the Goldsteins’ out of his case.

“The room is reinforced,” Albus said indifferently. His expression was unreadable as he leaned against one of the doorways and Newt looked down at him. Credence did not know what passed between them, but when he glanced at Queenie, he knew she didn’t either.

“Yes,” Newt said quietly. He glanced at his case, hesitant to part with it but Pickett sang on his arm.

Rushing down the stairs, he exited through one of the doorways. As Credence followed him, Dumbledore announced. “Once you’ve finished, find us on the grounds. Would you like a tour?” he asked the Goldsteins and Jacob.

Meanwhile, Newt swept through the corridors as if he had never left. “Mind that step,” he warned Credence on one of the staircases. At the bottom of it, Newt turned right for a corridor and lifted a tapestry from the wall. “Shortcut,” he explained.

Credence’s lips curved and he ducked under his arm to move through the dark corridor. He realized only once they were almost out of it that a pair of students were kissing against the wall.

“Ah. That hasn’t changed,” Newt uttered when Credence sent a look of surprise and inquiry at him. Possibly the most shocking thing was that the students were completely oblivious to them until Newt winked and a spark of light came from his wand. The loudest and shrillest whistle Credence had ever heard ricocheted through the tunnel and the girl added her own scream in shock as Newt let the tapestry concealing the shortcut fall.

Credence voiced, “I thought…New York City isn’t a shy place, but kissing is strange to me.”

Newt stopped so quickly Credence barely kept their noses from bumping. “Merlin’s beard, did my family make you uncomfortable?”

Newt’s eyes were wide and full of concern. “No, I just…didn’t realize it was so common.”

Newt blinked, giving it some thought. “Strange? Is it strange?”

Credence peeked around them, unsure a school corridor was the place for this topic. “No…I guess not. I’ve seen Jacob and Queenie kiss…and,” with odd clarity he realized, “and you.”

Newt scrubbed his hand behind his head. “I suppose that is a cultural difference. Kissing is more liberal throughout Europe, though kisses and placement can mean different things. Greetings are vastly different from intimacy. Um…” he frowned briefly. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to explain this. Queenie would be far better. Yes, yes, Pickett, we’re going.”

Curtailed by Pickett’s hunger, Newt continued onward. They were moving down in elevation. Down down until they were in a dead end corridor.

“Just here,” Newt said, stopping them at a large painting of a bowl of fruit. “Would you like to do it? Tickle that pear.”

Credence glanced at him but did as he bid, reaching up to run his fingers over the green fruit. The painting slid to the side, revealing a massive kitchen and similarly large eyes staring back at them. Credence glanced at Newt, suddenly feeling like they weren’t meant to be here—

“MR. NEWT!” one of the creatures cried. A dozen or so of them rushed out of the entrance to meet them.

“House elves,” Newt tersely explained before they were ushered inside the kitchens. “Just elves, now.”

“MR. NEWT! MR. NEWT!” they sang, eagerly shaking his hands. At one time each of his fingers was held by a different elf while Credence was given the same attention. “Who are you? A friend? Mr. Newt’s friend? A friend of Newt is friend of us! Yes! Yes!”

“Thank you. Yes, hello. Hello,” he smiled, gently hushing them before an elf who was slightly taller than the rest silenced them.

“Quiet! Mr. Newt, what can we do for you?” the elf asked. Credence could not tell a difference in gender but the elf had large green eyes and a short, swooping nose.

“I do have a request,” Newt admitted. “I was told you might have wood lice down here.”

“Of course! The bread cabinets!” the others cried, but then one of them baulked, “Not to eat, surely, Mr. Newt?”

“Not me,” Newt chuckled and held up Pickett. “For him. He’s got an appetite.”

A rainbow of eyes gazed up at Pickett with intrigue. “Just this way,” the leader said, nodding in the direction. Newt and Credence followed the elf to a wall of wooden cabinets with charred engravings labeling the various loaves. Opening one of them, the elf moved aside and Pickett eagerly climbed in for his breakfast. Credence watched as the elves rushed about, finding chairs to put in front of the fireplace, pouring glasses of tea and water while the others were already working on the students’ lunch and dinner.

“Elves…” he repeated wistfully.

“Hm?” Newt rotated, and followed his eyes. “Oh, yes. Hogwarts has always been home to elves looking for work and sanctuary. Helga Hufflepuff saw to that. For centuries, wizarding families have had their own house elves. Slaves, more like. There are exceptions, of course. Some are treated like family…but eventually an heir comes along who doesn’t agree with decency. My first occupation after the war was in the Office for House Elf Relocation. It was tedious in the extreme, as no one was actually doing much to relocate the elves to proper lodgings once they were either set free or went mad from the cruelty.”

“An heir,” Credence pondered. “So they live a long time?”

“Yes,” Newt nodded as he wandered along the various worktables. Many of them were laden with skinned animals waiting to be roasted or baked. He came across a swine whose head was open, revealing its brain. “May I have this?”

The lead elf looked at him and shrugged. “If you want. Only one of the professors likes sweet meats.”

Pulling his sleeves up, Newt revealed the sweeping evil curled around his wrist like a bracelet. “Wake up. I have breakfast for you.”

Groggily, the wings unwrapped, and upon seeing the raw meat, it landed upon its meal.

Credence frowned with thought. “Set free or...they go mad…”

“Mr. Newt saved us,” one of the smallest elves said next to Credence. Guessing she was a girl by her floral skirt, Credence knelt and sat on the carpet in front of the fire next to her, which seemed to ease her shy mannerisms.

“Did I?” Newt turned to her with a sad smile on his face. “It’s always hard to tell…most elves choose the family instead of freedom.”

Her watery blue eyes looked down and then back up at him. “We’re scared. But Mr. Newt is kind. Dumblydore is kind. Hogwarts is better than house.”

“Ehh,” another elf disagreed roughly. “Not much difference. Work here. Work there. Orders everywhere.”

“You’re just lazy, Carnald!” she piped, visibly trembling with anger.

“It’s all right, Violet,” Newt assured.

The elf gasped softly and Credence looked down at her small hand grasping his. “Mr. Newt remembers my name!”

Those blue orbs landed on him. “What’s your name, sir?”

His eyes widened. “Just Credence.”

“Mr. Credence, sir,” she beamed, emphatically shaking his hand anew. “What is your favourite food?”

Credence tried to recollect what he had enjoyed: “Almond croissants…” he thought about the soup Newt had made for breakfast. “Vegetable stew.”

“Spicy or savory?” she asked.

“Uh…both? More spicy.”

She was still shaking his hand. “I’ll make it! I’ll make your supper!”

Credence developed the mental image of small Violet with a regular and therefore large kitchen knife chopping vegetables for the stew. He shook his head. “Don’t do that for me. Breakfast was delicious the way it was. I don’t need anything special.”

“I want to!” she chimed, and then laughed like small bells. “And I can! That’s what freedom is!”

A soreness in the back of his throat bloomed all the way up to his eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “Yeah…I’ll look forward to it.”

“See that you do! The greenhouses have grown huge peppers! Thankfully the mandrakes haven’t affected them…”

She was swept away by things Credence had never heard of but Violet was soon called on to help the other elves. Newt lowered his sleeves over the evil on his wrist and picked up Pickett from the cabinets. The elves tried to send them off with various things but Newt managed to convince them to leave them in Dumbledore’s apartments. Once they left the kitchens, Credence missed the aromas of spices and wood burning but he was equally anticipant to see all of Hogwarts…

“Newt?” Credence paused, seeing Newt gazing down a short hallway opposite the kitchens. Credence returned to him but could not distinguish anything apart from the stacks of barrels. “Is there something down there?”

“Yes,” Newt said quietly. “Hufflepuff house. My dormitory.” He stopped, and looked down. “It used to be my dormitory, of course. We should get going. The others are waiting.”

Credence took another look down the corridor before he followed; it was more like a storage alcove than a hallway but he wondered how magically protected the dormitory was, since every place in the school seemed to require a prior knowledge to access—

Newt caught him and pulled him behind the corner of an intersection. Credence curiously saw Newt covering his lips with a finger and slowly pointed around the corner. Credence leaned around him to see a remarkably small man levitating over the floor. Credence frowned, unsure what he was doing but his heart landed against the back of his ribs as he felt Newt’s breath on his ear.

“Peeves.”

The door Peeves was hovering over opened and students leaving class filed out only to scream and complain as Peeves upturned a bucket of fluid over them. The smell of vinegar filled the hallway as Peeves cackled and sang, “HA HA HA! ICKY ICKY YOU’RE ALL STINKY!”

Credence watched him somersault his way out of sight. Newt’s hand moved on his back. “We’ll go another way.”

Dumbledore was outside as if he knew where they would be. The Hogwarts grounds sloped downward into a flat plain over which the river lapped tranquilly. “I bet the sunsets here are amazing,” Queenie was saying as Credence and Newt met them.

“Shall we enjoy it this evening?” Albus suggested. “A supper picnic? My lessons conclude at four. We can dine at five. We should be able to endure the cold until the sun sets and we move our meal indoors.”

“That sounds great,” Tina agreed.

“Welcome to the tour,” Albus greeted Credence. “This is the lake. It’s very wet, as to be expected. I would say it’s a pleasant location to find solace but…Newt, why ever would that not be the case?”

Newt pulled his flute from his interior pockets and played a brief tune on it. Albus looked out over the water and they saw a line of small bubbles coming toward them. As a slick head broke the surface tension, the bubbles were a whistle that entwined with Newt’s song. Newt put his flute away as two tentacles reached forward, shaking his hand.

“The squid is playful,” Newt answered as other tentacles felt around his face fondly.

“Yes, our kraken,” Albus confirmed, picking up a broken branch from a nearby tree and hurling it over the lake. The squid went after it immediately. "I would say to beware of the grindylows but more than likely if you should find yourself in the lake, she will bring you back posthaste.”

“What about the mermaids?” Credence asked.

Albus looked at him with bright eyes and smiled at Newt. “You told him about the merpeople. Yes, but you would need to venture all the way to the center of the lake to get their attention, and it’s far too cold for that.”

“Wait, wait, wait, _mermaids?”_ Jacob said with a sideways smile. “Like…actual mermaids?”

“Certainly,” Albus confirmed. “But not to be confused with saltwater sirens. Merpeople can breathe in salty waters but they don’t enjoy it. Thus, they are freshwater dwellers. A common misconception.”

As he strolled toward their next destination Jacob laughed, “Ghosts. Mermaids. This place is great!”

This sparked something in Credence’s memory and he jogged up to Albus. “Professor, can I ask you something?”

“Certainly. Ask away!”

“At Ilvermorny, a horned serpent lives in the valley around the school. I think a shaving from one of its horns is the core of my wand.”

“You’ve met the provider of your wand core? How unique. That sounds like a generous creature, indeed. May I see it?” Credence withdrew his wand and handed it to him. Albus held it with two fingers from each hand. “What is the wood?”

“Driftwood,” Credence replied.

“Ah, gifting intelligence for one’s wanderings,” Albus said, but more to himself than Credence. “Wherein is your question?”

“I guess…the serpent could read minds and…I feel like it made this wand work for me. So…I think my question is if Hogwarts has something similar?”

Albus met his eyes. “Do you need more confirmation than this?” He handed the wand back.

“It’s just…” Credence began, “I break most wands I touch. If this one breaks too, I won’t know where to start in getting a new one.”

Albus’s eyes softened. “My suggestion would be to try not to think this way. We cannot expect things to fail us, at the risk of giving up on it too early, and possibly unnecessarily. And if it should break, that is hardly a cause for great alarm. You said you’ve performed magic without a wand, yes?”

“Well. Yes, but I wouldn’t say it was a performance. Most of my magic is unintentional. Newt let me use his wand to help me practice controlling it. He said the wand makes it easier. He was right.”

Albus absorbed this and slowly turned to look at Newt. “Did he?” Credence followed his gaze but Newt only gave them a glance before peering at the sky. Albus continued, “I cannot disagree. A wand is like a lightning rod for your power, but I daresay a dependence on it will not be your future.”

Dumbledore looked up at the towering structure of the castle. “A school is nothing but a safe place to learn how your magic works and how to control it accordingly. It’s not about bending it to suit your needs, but crafting yourself to manage it. Speaking of, have you peeked inside the book I gave you?”

“Just the first few pages,” Credence admitted. “It sounds…I’m sorry if I’m expecting too much, but it doesn’t sound like it has to do with magic at all.”

Albus laughed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t, but if you don’t mind me saying, magic controlling magic is like using water to keep something from being wet. Meditation is a connection between your thoughts and your body, while magic resides in everything in between. How athletic are you?”

Credence met his gaze vacantly. He shook his head. “Not at all.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I understand. My closest kin is the athletic sort. As boys he got it into his mind to participate in various things like a rowing team, rugby, and quidditch, of course. Five kilometers of cardiovascular training— _running—”_ Albus grimaced at the very notion, “was all it took for me to be certain in my absolute distaste for intensive physical activity. It did however teach me that breathing is everything; especially when it seems impossible to do so, that is when it is the most important. But more on this later. These are the greenhouses where herbology is taught.”

Classes were in three of the glass structures, but Albus held the door open for them to stroll into the warm and humid confines of a vacant one. “Sunflowers?” Queenie exclaimed, walking over to the tall green stalks capped with golden crowns.

“The roasted seeds are delicious,” Albus said by way of explanation, “and the oil is useful in cooking and medicine. These gardens allow Hogwarts to be self sufficient."

“They’re my favorite flower,” Queenie smiled up at them.

“Oh, yeah?” Jacob said. “I’ll remember that.”

However on the other side of the greenhouse, the pots and troughs of plants had clouds of snowfall hovering over them. Credence went to a small tree from which fruit shaped almost like pears hung. Albus approached beside him and plucked one of the fruits. 

“Shrivelfig,” he named, and after pulling the stem out he dug his fingers into the recess and tore the fruit in half. The interior was full of purple and pink flowers while matching liquid dripped over his fingers. “The flowers are the fruit,” he said, offering the halves to him.

Credence ate one of the blossoms; its texture was like that of dried fruit but just as sweet. Credence shared the fruit with Newt and the others while Albus said, “Take the seeds, Newt, you could use them. The leaves and juice are medicinal.”

With a vial ready from his pocket, he took the stalk of seeds standing among the flowers out and pocketed it.

“Speaking of favourite flowers,” Dumbledore said, and like a light going out, the greenhouse filled with darkness apart from a trough of flowers glowing with blue petals.

“Oh, molies,” Tina breathed. “I like these too. Aurors are taught to look for these since eating them can cure dark enchantments.”

“Indeed,” Albus said as the greenhouse filled with sunlight once more. The petals were now white and Credence saw that the stems were black. “Colourful things are often the most poisonous in the wild but moly flowers make themselves known whether it be night or day. And they bloom in any season. Newt, take a few.”

Newt looked at him with surprise but obliged, “Alright. I’ll need to return to my case soon,” he said as he found an empty pot and replanted some of the blossoms in it. “I’ll also need to replenish my creatures’ provisions while I am here.”

“The grounds are yours to use as you like,” he promised as the clock of Hogwarts announced the half hour. “I must leave you now. My fifth years are learning metamorphmagus charms. It’s great fun.”

“Meta…” Credence tried.

“Metamorphmagus,” he repeated. “The changing of one’s face. One of my girls has gotten very good at changing her mouth to a duck’s bill, and another lad can make the top half of his face into that of a bear.”

“That’s close to animagus ability,” Queenie breathed. “Gosh, you gotta take a special test before they let you learn that at Ilvermorny.”

Tina concurred, “It’s incredibly difficult magic.”

“Yes…there was an incident with a lizard's tail but I only assign what I know can be accomplished. This particular group of students has quite a knack for this sort of thing. I’m sure several will register as animagi once they graduate. Good day to you all. See you at dinner.”

Newt felt Credence’s eyes on him and explained, “Some wizards can change themselves into animals. These individuals are called animagi, or animagus singularly. Theseus almost managed it in his fourth year. He had to go to the hospital wing for his wolf tail. I don’t think he’s tried since.”

Credence laughed and Newt smiled, but his lips pressed together to hush his mirth. Going over to the herbs, he plucked a few of the mint leaves and gave them to him. “You might want to eat these. It seems the shrivelfigs have turned our teeth purple.”

“What? Really?” Jacob exclaimed, widening his stained mouth for Queenie to inspect. Her hand flew to her mouth as she giggled profusely.

Credence looked back at Newt, whose mouth was firmly closed before he flashed a smile for him. Credence, on the verge of feeling embarrassed, was instead overcome with his own giggles. After a moment, Newt smiled more freely, laughing as he handed the potted herb to Tina for the others to clean their teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so the architecture of Hogwarts changed over the years of the movies so we’re taking a loose interpretation of the grounds, a’right? Don’t attack me, you wild Potterheads.
> 
> Does the Fat Friar have a name? He does now.


	17. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin quidditch match.

Credence was worried the elves would not know they were supping on the lawn but the food was already waiting for them when they arrived for their sunset picnic. The light was blinding as it reflected off the lake but the wind was scarce, making dinner a relatively warm affair before they returned to their room in the lilac evening.

Dumbledore showed them to the teachers’ bathroom but it was far from what he’d expected. Like a Roman sauna, the room was a wide mosaic of colored stone, but much to Credence’s apprehension, the middle of the floor was one bath.

As if sensing his thoughts, Albus brought them through an archway, “If the communal style of bathing is not to your liking, separate baths and showers are just here. Hang your raiment on the hooks so people will know it is occupied. Slippery stone floors are not the place to be startled. I would recommend waiting until after nine to bathe, and use the blue tap, not the orange. Purple is the soap.”

Tina and Queenie exchanged puzzled glances but Credence figured out the ordeal with faucets when his time to bathe arrived. The shower cubicles were given privacy with a wing of stone but it was the dozen golden taps standing over him that preoccupied his attention. Water poured over him from the blue handle at the perfect temperature, but out of curiosity Credence found the orange—

The most potent smell of orange liquor doused him. He quickly shut it off but his long shower only diluted the smell. He emerged smelling as if he had peeled nineteen oranges and some lavender from the purple soap.

He returned to the room where Albus was playing a card game with Jacob and Queenie. “These cards are against me,” Albus voiced as the cards spoke amongst themselves.

“They’re against everyone,” Jacob commiserated as Credence climbed the stairs to Newt’s case.

“Credence, would you say you’re a nightly person?” Dumbledore asked. “Or do you prefer mornings?”

He paused beside the bed on which the case rested. “Nights, sir, but if you wanted me to wake up early, I could.”

“Would you join me for a walk now, then? Just a brief stroll.”

Credence heard tinkering inside the case as well as Tina’s voice the moment Newt stuck his head out of the case. He wore a clean white shirt, the collar open while his hair was damp. “Oh, hello, Credence. Are you coming in?”

“No, Professor Dumbledore asked to go on a walk.”

Newt’s features opened in a silent exclamation before he disappeared within. Not a moment later he popped back up with two small sacks of what felt like hot pebbles. “Keep these in your pockets. They’ll warm you all over. Ehm…” Newt looked him over as he exchanged the pocket warmers with Credence’s laundry. Without further ado, Newt drew his wand, and Credence felt warm air blow through his clothing and hair, drying him as if he had never showered and flipped the hair off his face.

“You know where to find me,” he smiled softly, and lowered back inside the case. Credence went to his robe on one of the hooks between the doors and, after dropping the warmers into the pockets, a toasty heat engulfed him.

“After you,” Albus gestured out of the doors. 

“Oh, I should give you this,” Credence said, extracting the passport from his breast pocket.

“Keep it,” Albus disregarded. “You may yet have a use for it, though the uses are limited.”

“I’ve used it three times,” Credence considered as they made their way out of the school.

“Three?” Albus asked.

“Customs in America, then England, and someone tried to mug me in Knockturn Alley. Newt used it on them.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore acknowledged as he held the door for Credence. The night was cold but humid. Away from the city, the night sky was bright enough to see the clouds moving quickly over their heads. “Has he taught you defensive spells?”

“He’s shown me how regular spells can be used to protect myself, but only after his brother taught me something did Newt start with dueling spells.”

“Theseus,” Albus recalled. “Yes, he is a master duelist. I can’t imagine Newt wanting to teach offensive spells. They are not his preference. For a man who keeps so many illegal beings close to himself, he is a remarkable pacifist.”

“But he and Theseus dueled,” Credence said as they descended to walk along the lake. “I thought Newt was good at it.”

Albus grinned. “I should hope so. I taught him myself.”

Credence gazed at him in awe. “So…Newt was going easy on him?”

“No, no, I’d say they were both limiting themselves, so it is not fair to judge them, really. Although Theseus only refuses the occupation as head auror because he doesn’t want it; he has every privilege to it. Newt took a great deal of encouragement and practice to hone his power for my lessons.”

“How do you know? About Theseus?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m familiar with various ministry persons,” Albus said distractedly, gazing up at the sky. Credence looked up and saw the herd of thestrals flying over the grounds. “Am I to assume you’re interested in dueling?”

“I…” he began. “Well…I’d like to be able to defend myself.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” Dumbledore encouraged. “You have as much right as anyone else. Dueling is certainly a good way to practice. There are even dueling clubs for those who see the sport in it. Personally I enjoyed the pace of it. A powerful duel can last seconds…seconds that feel like hours. But dueling is more than how many spells you know. The real battle is with the mind, not your wand.”

“Enjoyed, sir?” Credence wondered.

Dumbledore looked down at him as if he hadn’t heard but said, “I don’t duel much anymore. Speaking of the mental, are you bored of the book, yet?”

“Oh…honestly I haven’t gotten far into it,” Credence admitted.

Albus chuckled. “No, I would be impressed if you had. I warned you it was fluffy. The sixty pages could have been trimmed down to ten but we shan’t overly judge the author. He lived two and a half centuries ago. You mentioned you had doubts. Do these doubts persist?”

Credence gave it some thought. “Yes and no. I haven’t really tried meditation yet so I can’t give my opinion on it.”

“Hm, wise,” Albus approved. “But how would you feel if I told you that you are meditating at this very moment?”

Credence’s breathe paused. “I’d ask you to explain.”

Albus laughed. “Did you notice how you stopped breathing when your doubt emerged? How your lungs worked on their own before your mind interfered?”

“No,” he admitted. "Well, now I do."

“I’ve found it is easier to control thoughts while moving,” Albus explained as he looked out over the silver lake. “Still waters are unsafe to drink from, as they say. In India they have a practice called yoga. In China, a martial art form called tai chi is used. So you see, meditation is not one of my more brilliant ideas, but the greatest minds _steal.”_

He flashed a smile, which Credence mirrored. “My preference is walking. The gentle physical activity is enough to overpower the mind so oxygen gets to where it needs to go. But meditation is first and foremost an awareness of your breath. You’ve heard the phrase, ‘Counting sheep helps you sleep’?”

Credence nodded. “It never worked, though.”

“Me neither,” Albus agreed. “However I believe the intention was less about sheep and more into tricking you into slowing your heart rate through your breathing. I’ll spoil the second chapter for you: counting while you inhale and exhale is a beginner’s method to controlling their breath and thoughts. Let’s do a variation of it. I’ve counted that you inhale over the course of three steps. I’d like to challenge you to do it over seven.”

“You’ve…counted?” Credence said, bewildered, before he focused. “Okay.”

“Just walk naturally,” Albus advised. “Try and measure the pace of your legs with your lungs.”

Albus aligned his hips with Credence’s and counted steps for him. By the seventh one Credence felt like he was holding his breath, already full of air. When he voiced this Albus nodded and urged him to start again and again. Credence found the pace easily but then Albus added, “I want to hear you breathing. It’s not meant to be forced; it’s like when someone is sleeping beside you, you can hear it. Not like you’re blowing up a balloon, just feel the muscles of your lungs working. And this time exhale over ten breaths.”

He advised to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth, which Credence did but it was an odd sensation. Over and over and over again, Albus counted their steps until he no longer made revisions but just started over as soon as he reached seven or ten. Eventually they had come all the way around to the door Albus used to come and go from his walks.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel…lightheaded,” Credence said, “but not in a dizzy way.”

“Good,” Albus chimed. “What I’d like you to do, Credence, is do this again before as you lie waiting for sleep. Instead of steps, count the seconds and notice any differences you experience between walking and lying stationary. If you are successful in achieving this feeling again, wonderful. If you are unsuccessful, wonderful. Do not judge the outcome; merely take note of the experience. Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” Credence said. “Well, you said it can be easier to move while meditating but…I think I’ve only seen Newt do it while sitting still.”

Albus’s bright blue eyes glimmered at him keenly. “I should have said it is easier when it is convenient. We can only control our spontaneous reactions minimally. How we behave afterwards, however, is entirely our choice. But more on that another day.”

*******

The school was buzzing with excitement over the quidditch match. Violet and a couple other elves delivered breakfast to their rooms so they could dine in peace but the songs of house pride were loud in the corridors. Credence was peeking out at the quidditch pitch as he stirred fruit into his porridge the same moment Albus swept into the room with a flourish.

“Snugglefumps and hornlumps! Good morning, all!” he exclaimed, dropping plant bulbs into their coffeepot. A moment later, seven blue irises stood out of the coffeepot. Jacob appeared mildly disappointed until Albus poured his own cup from it like the coffee was not contaminated at all.

“Big day, huh?” Tina laughed.

“Oh yes,” he smiled, drinking it black. “Slytherin versus Ravenclaw is a battle of wits. I daresay this match could last all day, so you may show up and leave it whenever you like. You will sit in the teachers’ seats.”

“I was thinkin’, since the castle will be pretty empty with no classes,” Jacob considered, “it might be a good time to look around without bein’ in the way.”

“Oo!” Queenie agreed, “That could be fun after we watch the first point of the game.”

“You’re welcome to it,” Albus agreed. “I would only advise ignoring the third floor on the eastern side. Not much there to see except for empty rooms we have yet to find a use for. There’s a bit of a missing staircase problem down that way so unless you’d like to be trapped for a while, there’s that. And avoid Peeves, of course.”

“Peeves?” Jacob repeated.

“A poltergeist,” Newt provided.

“He dumped vinegar on students leaving class,” Credence voiced from his place on the window seat.

“Is he a visible poltergeist?” Tina strategized.

“Usually,” Dumbledore answered pleasantly.

Queenie shrugged. “We’ve handled worse than vinegar.”

Albus lifted his coffee. “Give him hell, ladies.”

After breakfast they made their way to the quidditch stadium. The sun was warm and on the ground there was not any wind but Credence was glad for his layers and the pocket warmers when they emerged at the top of the stairs in the massive column where the teachers sat. The wind was strong and brisk up here, but the view of the students soaring around on sleek and bushy-ended broomsticks was both exciting and odd.

Credence laughed to himself. “I guess wizards don’t use brooms to clean.”

Queenie giggled as Jacob gazed in wonder at the spectacle. “How don’t they fall off?”

One of the teachers heard him and turned around to offer what looked like opera spectacles. “Use these, good man.”

Jacob accepted them and awed, “Wow…” before he handed them to Credence. The binoculars not only focused on the players so the wearer did not have to keep up, but also slowed their flight so he could see the metal rods on which the players’ feet rested.

“Thank you,” Credence said as he handed the binoculars back to the teacher.

“My pleasure. Albus, are these your guests? Do introduce us.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Horace Slughorn, professor of potions. You arrived too late to have taught Newt Scamander.”

Several teachers rotated to looked at them. Newt meant to smile but it vanished with gravity as he ducked his head in a nod, shaking the professor’s hand.

“Sadly, but I certainly know the name. I was crestfallen to read in our records that your brother excelled at just about everything _but_ potions. Nothing to scoff at, though, since he passed with decent marks, nonetheless. You and your mother, however, top marks. What is your specialty?”

“Just healing…ointments and such. Practical things.”

Newt peeked at the teachers slowly losing their attention for him and looked away. Albus picked up, “Jacob Kowalski, a marvelous New York baker. And Tina and Queenie Goldstein, beautiful minions of MACUSA.”

Some of the teachers chuckled while Slughorn laughed, “Not under surveillance, are you, Albus? You’re such a deviant the ministry needs American help.” But he shook the sisters’ hands. “A pleasure, of course. I know Albus has a sweet tooth but I reckon that’s not how you’ve joined this party, Mr. Kowalski,” Horace asked Jacob.

“He’s my honey,” Queenie chimed. “And Newt’s friend.”

“Oh! That’s marvelous, welcome,” Slughorn grinned.

“Last but certainly not least, Credence Goldstein,” Albus introduced. By the way Tina and Queenie both pivoted to stare at him, Credence knew Newt had not conferred with them about his change of surname. When he peeked at them, however, Queenie was grinning and Tina’s eyes were damp.

“Ah,” Horace acknowledged, but he clearly expected more as he shook Credence’s hand.

“Their cousin and my assistant,” Newt provided.

“A family affair,” Horace nodded. “You chose a wonderful occasion to arrive. I only hope my house does not embarrass itself.”

“What house is that?” Tina wondered.

“Slytherin,” he smiled. “We have a wonderful captain this year…”

Tina and Horace spoke about the players as the head of Ravenclaw weighed in with friendly competition. Through their conversation, Credence was able to gather how the game worked. Queenie looped her arm through Credence’s while they waited for the match to begin.

A student emerged in their stands and approached what looked like a telephone of all things mounted to the edge of the stands, but only the receiving end. Her low voice boomed out over the quidditch pitch, announcing it was time for a coin toss and for the captains to shake hands.

_“Really? This is quidditch, gents, not wrestling. Speed this up. It’s a coin toss, not transfiguration. No offense, professor.”_

“None taken,” Albus chimed.

 _“Ravenclaw wins the coin toss,”_ the moderator announced. Credence noticed her scarf was red striped under her long black braids, like one of Newt’s. Looking out over the stands, the one with green decoration was full of students wearing green paraphernalia; the red banners were around seats also speckled with the red and gold striped raiment. Directly across from them were the golden Hufflepuffs, their yellow toque hats bright against their black robes. By far the loudest currently were the sapphire and indigo Ravenclaws, celebrating their advantage as the chasers moved in place for the quaffle toss. The referee blew his whistle.

_“Ravenclaw may have won the coin but Slytherin slips in for the quaffle. You better guard those posts, Jennie. I have money on you.”_

“Miss Jordan,” one of the professors scolded.

_“Just giving encouragement, professor. HOW DID YOU DROP THAT, ALEX? I mean…my idiot—”_

“Victoria!”

_“—brother Alexander Jordan accidentally passes the quaffle to Slytherin chaser Rosalin Gragm.”_

Credence glanced at Newt laughing on his other side. “I thought you didn’t like quidditch,” he said.

“It wasn’t my strength,” Newt answered. “I did enjoy playing chaser, but I wasn’t competitive enough.”

“The, uh, beaters?” Jacob observed, “Look like baseball batters. Once I got over the heights thing I think I could play that part.”

“That reminds me of the keeper for the Holyhead Harpies, Rory Macleod." Slughorn said, "A dab hand at cricket, which is not too far from your baseball, I believe.”

_“AND SLYTHERIN GETS THE FIRST POINT. JENNIE YOU OWE ME FIVE GALLEONS.”_

“Victoria, gambling is not permitted on school grounds,” the teacher reminded sternly.

 _“It’s the exchange of monetary favours under certain conditions, professor,”_ Victoria contrasted.

Tina laughed but leaned over to look at the others. “Wanna explore? Where’s Newt?”

Credence turned but Newt was indeed gone. His gaze went up to Dumbledore on the row behind them but he was also gone. Tina considered, “He’s probably…” She fell silent with a glance at teachers looking at them. “We’ll meet up with him.”

The grounds were beautiful in the morning sunlight; the snow had melted so the gardens sparkled. As they emerged from the stairs of the quidditch pitch, Queenie voiced quietly, “Credence…if you want to learn potions, can I recommend not using Professor Slughorn for it?”

He looked back at her but Tina was the one who asked, “Why not? He seemed alright.”

“He collects people,” Queenie said.

“Collects people…” Credence repeated.

Queenie shrugged. “It’s not strange, really. Fellas in the MACUSA offices like to spend their time with popular people.”

“Oh,” Tina recognized. “People with ambition but not the ability. They surround themselves with the right people, so when those people are noticed, anyone associated with them is too. Huh…I wouldn’t have thought—but then again he was fond of mentioning important names, huh?”

Queenie’s curls bobbed as she flashed a grin and nudged Credence's arm. “So I guess it would be a compliment if he showed interest, huh?”

The side of Credence’s mouth curved but he admitted, “I don’t want to be shown off.”

“Really?” She took his arm in hers. “So I should stop?”

His features went blank apart for a slow but robust rouge in his cheeks. Queenie giggled and rubbed his arm. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You’ve been showing me off?” he blurted, calling her smile back onto her face.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re one of us, right, honey?”

“Sure thing,” Jacob smiled from her other side.

Credence was grinning despite himself. Tina slid her hand behind his shoulders, the three of them striding toward the school.

The castle was cavernous already but the aura was different without students’ voices filling the halls. The effect was tenfold when they heard the Fat Friar singing with Sir Nicholas as they floated down a corridor, their voices merry yet echoing as if they were in a grotto. The stone was medieval and macabre, and yet this somehow added to its charm as it was home to so many in this day and age.

Occasionally a student passed them and there were small study groups in the great hall, even more in the library where they found themselves. “I love old European libraries,” Queenie purred, running her fingers over the leather and silk-bound spines. Many windows provided natural light, some of them stained so fragments of red or blue shined on the floor. “I’ll come back later. Let’s see more.”

Jacob liked watching the paintings, even more so when he realized he could talk to them. “Oh—how ya doin’?” he startled when an old crone looked up from her potions book.

“It’s stuffy in here. Could you open that window?” she replied.

“Uh,” Jacob looked at the window of the landing they were on and lifted the metal claw holding the pane shut. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” she said, and returned to her task.

He enjoyed watching figures from small paintings leave their frames and appear in their larger neighbor’s picture proportionally bigger; this was particularly true as they walked along a long corridor with paintings hung frame to frame around a large wooden door without a knob. Only a bronze eagle knocker stared down at them.

 _“When does the clock begin?”_ it spoke.

“I’m sorry?” Jacob said.

“It’s a riddle,” Queenie sang, stepping forward. “When does the clock begin…”

“Time,” Tina considered.

“Humans are the only ones who measure time,” Queenie agreed. “So it begins in the human mind.”

The eagle’s wings flapped and the door swung open to reveal a parlour of white marble, bronze accents, and rich blue furniture around a crackling firepit. “I think that’s a dormitory,” Credence warned.

“I think you’re right,” Tina realized. “Sorry, thanks, though.”

The door closed and the eagle bobbed its head. As they moved on Jacob said, “So all the dorms are hidden like that? Good job on the riddle, ladies—”

“HEE HEE! Creepy, I say, guests sneaking into dorms is against the rules, you see!”

“Peeves,” Credence realized, rotating to find the poltergeist. The pointed face swooped down to be nose to nose with him.

“You knows Peevsie? But Peeves doesn’t know you. Would you like to play?”

“Not really,” Credence declined.

Peeves’ cheeks inflated and he blew a raspberry; despite the ghostly silver wisps seeping through is vibrantly coloured raiment, his spittle hit Credence’s face. “Everybody plays with Peeves, whether you know it or not. OI!”

Tina’s wand glowed as a cloud dropped rain and hail over Peeves’ head. “We’ll play,” she smirked.

He cackled. “Point to Peeves! You can’t be bothered by wet when you’re dead!”

“So spooked to death is off the table?” Queenie chimed.

Peeves’ eyes widened and Credence turned to see a brilliant white bird connected to Queenie’s wand by a watery white thread. With its wingspan, the bird was as large as Peeves himself. It reminded him of the wolf Theseus had sent to Newt in the woods.

“A PEREGRINE? THAT’S NOT FAIR!” he shrieked, and flew down the corridor. The falcon raced behind him until both were out of sight.

Queenie smiled softly, pocketing her wand as Jacob asked. “That was amazing! What was that?”

“A patronus,” she explained. “It’s a shield against evil things, like dementors, even though I’ve never used it against one.” 

Tina picked up, “If you can make a corporeal one, it’s an animal guardian. Or in this case, a good distraction.”

Something sparked in Credence’s memory. Something Dumbledore had said, but they were moving on. The owlery was next, on the opposite side of the castle than the quidditch pitch. Though the rafters and floor were decorated in white splatters and grey pellets, the soft twittering of the birds was comforting and it seemed to be a place not often visited by students. The tower was not enclosed so the wind took away any unpleasant smells. From the balcony of the owlery they could see a heard of hippogriffs on the riverbank across from the school.

“There he is,” Jacob smiled. Credence’s features softened, feeling a sense of relief as he turned to go down the stairs outside of the tower.

Newt had chosen a place far from the castle, a small bay for the hippogriffs to play as well as the net of water to float on the surface. It was currently empty, the grindylows gone into the lake. The giant squid was poking the netted water as Credence came over the bank. Newt was lying on a bare bed of rock, absorbing the sunlight in his shirt and waistcoat. His robe, jacket, and footwear marked a barrier around the niffler, who slept in the sun.

Charlotte sang out, announcing them. But when Newt did not move, Credence shushed her and stroked her beak as he had seen Newt do. Pickett rose and fell with Newt’s breaths from where he likewise dozed on Newt’s chest.

“Done already?” Credence hadn’t seen Albus in the trees, but the man emerged from them now.

“Where’s your favorite place here?” Queenie chimed quietly as she sat on Newt’s rock bed.

“Oh…I don’t suppose I have one,” he said pleasantly. “It’s all home.”

“Must be nice,” Tina voiced as she stroked Hector’s onyx feathers. “Where was home before you were a professor?”

Albus met her gaze, “You know, it’s hard to remember.”

“I gotta say,” Jacob commented, “it’s nice bein’ in Europe without the machinery for company.”

“You fought in the war,” Albus deduced. “I am sorry.”

“Aw, there’s nothin’ really to be sorry for,” Jacob considered. “From what I’ve heard, wizards weren’t the cause, right?”

“No, but we cannot take credit for ending it, either.” Albus turned a stone over in his hands before he sent it skipping over the river. The squid lurched after it. “Ah, good morning.”

Newt was blinking awake. Queenie cast an umbrella with a dark tint from her wand to shield him from the sun. Turning his head, Newt found Credence’s eyes and his mouth parted in a groggy smile before he sat up. A hand cradled Pickett to his diaphragm, the green fingers hooking on his waistcoat buttons unconsciously. Dougal crooned from the open case, his silver head pushing at the veil.

“I’m coming,” he sighed, lowering into the case with Jacob.

“Credence, shall we walk?” Albus offered.

He nodded and stepped in stride with him, almost retracing their path the night before. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Credence answered. “I’m not usually able to fall asleep easily at night.”

“You’re not alone in that.”

“I used to walk through New York,” Credence voiced. “It helped…sort of. Mostly it got me into more trouble.”

Albus walked with his hands in his trouser pockets, his robe tails swelling behind him. “Has this changed since you’ve been with Newt? I reckon there are only so many laps one can take inside the case.”

“You’d be surprised,” Credence smiled shyly, but earned a mirrored look from Albus. “There’s room to walk, or there’s always something to do.”

“And what of the keeper himself?” Albus asked.

“Newt?”

“Yes. Do you like him? I assume you enjoy your time with him. I’d like to share your thoughts.”

Credence hesitated but admitted, “I like him…I mean,” he paused, frowning slightly. “He…doesn’t say much, or he says so much he runs out of air.”

Dumbledore chuckled fondly for a while, but there was sadness in his eyes. “Good. It is good that part hasn’t left him.”

Credence shifted as he walked, pinching his fingertips. “What do you mean, sir?”

Albus lifted his brows as if he had been pulled from a reverie. “Oh, well…”

But then he looked at Credence and his tone changed. He sighed quietly, “One of my greatest joys is seeing my students leave with bright eyes…and then my greatest pain is seeing them again after their eyes have grown dark. Dimmed by the toil and cruelty of the world. You, Credence, are rare and unique in that your eyes are brighter every time I see you.”

“It hasn’t been three days,” Credence said bluntly.

Albus guffawed. “Yes, and I am no less happy to have had the pleasure of meeting you. Although I must ask you a hard thing.”

Their pace slowed to a stop. Albus finished, “Your permission to share your thoughts.”

Credence blinked. “You meant…literally?"

“Literally and plural,” Albus nodded. “I would like to pick Newt’s brain, but I know he will not allow it without your consent.”

Credence felt his lungs ache with the air he was holding. Pushing it out, he asked, “What do you want to know that you can’t just ask?”

“I know of Gellert’s involvement in New York and his intimacy with MACUSA. I cannot simply ask for the details: I need to see them. I need both yours and Newt’s memories.”

“You…it sounds like you want more than to read our minds,” Credence said.

Albus oddly brightened. “Conveniently, I have a new device I may use. A storage and viewing receptacle, shall we say. I don't need to read your mind so much as make a copy of your memories.”

Credence gave it some thought. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all,” Dumbledore proclaimed calmly. “After doing it on myself, I’d say the sensation is not unlike a tickle.”

“Tickle,” Credence doubted.

“Would you like a demonstration?” he offered.

Credence’s features went deadpan. “I’m not sure.”

“It doesn’t involve cracking a skull open, I guarantee,” Albus chuckled, resuming their pace over the grass. “But you may think further on it. Let’s focus on something else with the mind. How did it go last night?”

Credence liked setting aside the idea of _taking_ ideas out of his head. “I thought it went okay, but…I think I was too busy thinking about it. And…I was excited from being here.”

Albus smiled understandingly. “Nothing wrong with enjoying where you are. Are you paying attention now?”

Credence’s features went slack. He had not been counting his steps or observing his breaths. He consciously inhaled so his chest expanded. Albus smirked. “I can’t fault you anything. It is more difficult than we expect.”

“I need to think of this all the time?” Credence dreaded.

“It is not meant to be a conscious effort, but a lifestyle. You’ve already made the right step into it when you chose to inhale instead of fumble for an excuse for me,” Albus’s eyes twinkled. “But I would add on the technique of breathing. Has Newt discussed this with you?”

“I don’t think so. Forgive me but…are you saying I’m breathing the wrong way?”

“Funny, eh?” Albus confirmed. “Many people don’t know how they only use the top part of their lungs to breathe. I would say the choirmaster is the best person to illustrate breathing technique but you have a choir member at your beck and call. I’ll leave it to Newt. He won’t mind.”

*******

“Newt?”

The man perked up from where he was sitting on the grass, cleaning Hector’s beak of his dinner’s blood. He silently answered, his expression welcoming.

“Dumbledore said you could teach me a breathing technique. He…mentioned you would have learned it in choir.”

Newt visibly processed this and his expression became illegible. “Of course,” he answered indifferently, and then, “Would you take off your jacket and waistcoat, please?”

Rising to his feet, Newt removed his own vest and overlapped it with Credence’s garments on the rail around the forest habitat. Next, Newt looked Credence in the eye but turned his back to him, gesturing, “Put your hands here, on my lowest ribs.”

Credence hesitated but lightly touched Newt’s back. He could feel warmth through the fabric above his scar—

Newt reached back and placed Credence’s hands himself, splaying his palms across his ribs so the fingers could wrap around Newt’s torso. “You’ll need to know where you’re sending the air,” he made by way of explanation before he inhaled.

Credence’s eyes dropped to the ribcage expanding beneath his hands, wider and wider, but it was not apparent how far until Newt exhaled and Credence felt how the lungs collapsed. Newt turned slightly so his chest could be seen. “You’re not breathing up and out, but down and back. See?”

He inhaled again, and Credence saw how his chest did not rise until his back had expanded, his lungs filling from the bottoms first. Credence’s eyes lifted, though, watching Newt’s eyes close, listening to the air pass through him like water on a shore. There was something fragile in holding Newt's body like this, but also powerful. Maybe it was the heat reaching toward Credence’s skin, or Newt being a strong, albeit slim, man. It could have been the ribs Credence felt under the webbing of muscle and sinew, but he realized he was also who felt oddly fragile and strong by the proximity. He had never been allowed this close to anyone before.

Newt’s eyes opened. Credence had not realized Newt had gently been holding his wrists but now Newt released them, and Credence’s hands fell back to his sides. “Let’s sit down. You can take your time learning this.”

They settled in the grass among the hippogriffs lounging or grooming themselves. Newt sat behind Credence. “May I touch you?”

Credence glanced behind him, seeing Newt’s hands meant to do the same as he had just done. He nodded, “Yes.”

“Try and sit up straight,” Newt said gently, but the pads of his fingers running up his spine made him succeed in that endeavor. Newt tried and failed to hold back his mirth. “But try not to be so stiff.”

“S-Sorry,” he apologized, flustered.

“Do you want me to stop?” Newt blurted.

“No, it’s fine,” Credence assured. “You’re fine.”

There was a pause, and then Newt’s fingers drew diagonal lines from his shoulders to the center of his back. “Try to move your shoulder blades together, in this path.”

Credence did so, realizing Newt was making his shoulders go back; his chest felt vulnerably open, but the warmth of Newt’s hands was on his ribs now. “Push my hands apart when you inhale. Send the air here. Don’t rush, try and keep a natural pace.”

Newt’s touch was light, not restricting Credence as he breathed. “Good,” Newt encouraged. “You can go further. Try and relax. It’s just me here. Unless you’re afraid of Charlotte’s judgment.”

Credence glanced back at him and the hippogriff neck deep under her wing. Her head whipped around as if understanding them, the feathers atop her head in wonky directions. Credence huffed a laugh, and then another more easily. Newt shared it and soothed, “Just inhale until you feel your ribs meet my hands.”

Credence did, but found it surprising how much air he needed until his sides inflated enough to fit within Newt’s hands. When he exhaled, Newt adjusted, “The work is here, as well as here,” he patted the bottoms of his ribcage and then a hand came around to touch his abdominals. “Let your shoulders relax. It may help to push the air out as steadily as you draw it in.”

Credence tried this and voiced, “This feels like exercise.”

He heard a breath of laughter behind him as Newt admitted, “Yes…I supposed it is difficult to believe the effort put into relaxation.”

“Not necessarily,” Credence said. “Modesty’s nurses have her draw, even though she thinks it’s just to create a distraction.”

Credence’s ribs met the curves of Newt’s palms as the latter said, “Art is an emerging form of therapy, arriving in the wake of journaling. The extraction of thoughts.”

Credence’s head turned a little. “Dumbledore said he needs our memories.”

“I know.”

Credence looked back at him. “You knew he would ask me?”

“I did tell him you spent the most time with Grindelwald,” Newt admitted. “Tina was likely sacked before he took over Graves’ position, and Queenie doesn’t work with the aurors. The number of times I engaged with him can be counted on one hand.”

“But…he’s in prison,” Credence said. “Isn’t he?”

Newt smiled sadly. “He has escaped before, and he has a vast number of supporters. Whether he is or is not in custody doesn’t matter. As long as he can have his plans put into action, he is dangerous.”

“You’re saying he can communicate with people outside of prison,” Credence uttered.

Newt pressed his lips together. “I respect Madame Picquery but she is new to a game Grindelwald has mastered.”

Credence sighed. “My memories are necessary, then.”

“I’m afraid so,” Newt apologized.

Credence frowned. “Why would you wait for my permission to give your memories, though?”

“Because my memories involve your obscurus,” Newt said.

“Oh,” he breathed, falling silent.

Newt set his hands in his lap. “I don’t mean for it to be a secret. I only want you to be able to address it in your own time.”

Credence nodded, understanding. “It’s not something to avoid. I did things while I had it. Awful things.”

“I don’t mean for you to think of it like that either,” Newt pushed.

“How am I supposed to think about it?” Credence said a little impatiently.

“There is a difference between understanding and blaming,” Newt tried to explain. “I don’t want you to blame yourself for using the obscurus to defend yourself against the people who harmed you, but I also don’t want you to beat dead people further into the ground. I promised you I wouldn’t discuss your trauma without your consent, that’s all I’m doing.”

“Are you keeping a secret or aren’t you?” Credence countered.

“It doesn’t need to be a secret,” Newt rephrased. “Only while it hurts and you hold it close like one, will it do you harm. The moment you can set it down and move forward, it will be optional information. You may share it with whomever you wish because you want to; you may give or keep information because you want to, not because you’re afraid or feel obligated or…” Newt sighed, “Is any of this making sense?”

Credence pushed his lungs wide, but even as he exhaled he shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Silence behind him.

As the quiet dragged on, however, Credence’s heart began to fall. He looked behind him, only to stare at Newt treading over the graphorn’s desert sand. “Would you call them?”

Credence was deadpan. “What?”

“If you want to breathe like a singer, you’ll know you’re doing it right if you can project like one. I’m not asking you to sing,” he added quickly when Credence blanched. “Come on.”

Credence stood and went to the sand before Newt told him to stop and ran further into the desert habitat. Newt went so far Credence could have measured him with his fingers. “Don’t think of it as yelling!” Newt called. “Inhale and send your voice to me!”

“Are you sure about this?” Credence answered but Newt interrupted, “I can’t hear you!”

Credence rubbed his eyes and steeled himself. “I’M NOT SURE ABOUT THIS!”

“You’re not yelling from your throat!” Newt corrected. His hands were on his belly. “You’re talking from here! The air is here! Aaaaaah-AH!”

The graphorns emerged from behind one of the dunes, trotting toward the call. “Call them!”

Credence braced his legs and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Aah-ah!”

“Deeper!” Newt ordered. “Feel it in your abdomen!”

“Aaaah-ah!” Credence tried but the graphorns moved around Newt, fondly touching his face. He moved his hands back to his mouth but hesitated. They would never listen to him over Newt—

“Make them hear you!” Newt called. “You’re thinking too much! Just inhale properly and when you exhale send your voice with it!”

Credence had lost his confidence. One of his hands fell so only one helped his voice over the distance. “I’m not good at this yelling thing, Newt.”

“How would you know?” Newt grinned. “You’ve never been allowed to try.”

Credence could see that mischief over the distance and frowned. “No, I wasn’t! So my voice isn’t strong enough!”

“You’re the strongest person I know, Credence. You’re just silly enough to not notice you’re already doing it!”

“What?” Credence erupted. “This isn’t doing it! I feel ridiculous!”

“Good!” Newt stepped around the graphorn foal. “Feel ridiculous! Ridiculous is energy! Your magic brings you what you want, now make your voice do the same! You feel it in your gut! The first step to doing it is _knowing you can!_ Now. Call. Them. To. You!”

Frustrated, Credence bellowed, “Aaaaaah-AHHH!”

The graphorns’ heads turned toward him. His features washed blank. Newt jumped for his attention. “Yes! Again!”

“Aaaaah-AH!” Credence uttered before whatever energy this was left him.

The foals came first, followed by their parents loping over the sand. He stayed still as he’d seen Newt do; the creatures slowed as they approached him, their tentacles touching his face in welcome. After each took their turn, Newt appeared last with a bucket of meat so their part went rewarded.

“There,” Newt said as he tossed the meat into the sand. “Easy enough.”

“That wasn’t easy,” Credence countered bluntly.

“Now you sound like Tina,” Newt teased.

“Excuse me?” the woman in question said from the caravan. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know. Newt, Albus has asked for you.”

“Only good things,” Newt chimed.

“Ah huh,” she smirked dubiously. “Get going. Albus is good at being politely impatient.”

Newt climbed out of the case and not long afterward, dinner arrived in their room. Despite it just being the four of them, a feast was on the table, as well as various side dishes on the window seat. Credence found the bowl of soup that was meant for him and arranged as much as he could on his plate before he waited.

Jacob noticed and looked at the doors. “Uh, I think he’ll be late. He wouldn’t want ya to wait up.”

“What did Dumbledore want?” Credence asked.

Tina looked to Queenie and said, “They’re in his office.”

“He’s got some sorta barrier around it,” Queenie shook her head. “It’s as quiet as his head to me.”

Tina’s brow furrowed. “You know, why would a teacher need that kind of enchantment on his office?”

“Well he’s not just a professor, is he?” Queenie considered. “He’s Albus Dumbledore.”

“I guess that name carries some weight in your world,” Jacob commented, and leaned his fork toward Credence, “but would you educate us a little bit?”

“Oh, sure,” Queenie said. “I guess you could call transfiguration the physics of magic, and he’s the best at it.”

“Your masters of physics make these grand and horrible machines, right?” Tina supplied. “Transfiguration is the manipulation of magic, so…the manipulation of physics.”

Jacob whistled. “You’re tellin’ me that guy can do anything?”

Tina lifted a brow. “He hasn’t proven it, but…theoretically, yes.”

“He’s already gotten an Order of Merlin, second class—an acknowledgement of achievement,” Queenie said, “and he either knows enough people or is apart of so many councils that he’s rumored to have easy access to all the right ears in government.”

Jacob processed this but frowned. “Seems kinda off for a guy like that to only be a teacher, huh?”

This stumped the sisters until Tina shrugged. “Maybe not. Hogwarts is one of the most magically fortified places in the world. And what better way to shape the future than by teaching the people living in it?”

“Newt and Theseus once said Dumbledore is humble,” Credence remembered, but Jacob shook his head with a sad sort of smile.

"I’d love to be the first person who’s wrong, but in my experience, a guy who knows he’s the best at somethin’ ain’t as modest as folks think.”

This gave Credence something to think about as they finished their meal, but afterward Newt had still not returned. “Let’s take care a’them, huh? I’ll give ya a hand.” Jacob offered when Credence opened the case. Together they fed the rest of the creatures and cleaned the habitats the way Newt did. Jacob combed Dougal’s hair, putting the loose strands in a seemingly empty jar labeled _‘Dougal’_ while Credence collected other debris Newt could use as tools or currency exchange.

He was going past his tent to return the rake to storage when Jacob exclaimed, “I know this tent! I saw it the first time I was in here. I remember now—or…well this one has a roof…”

He moved so he could look at the other side of the case. “But that one’s gone, so…”

“Newt rearranges things sometimes,” Credence supplied, stepping around the scarab beetles.

“Yeah…” Jacob said, searching his memory, “but there was somethin’…in the tent.”

“He returns creatures when he can,” Credence said with a look toward the netted fresh water. “The grindylows are in the lake now.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I know, but…somethin’ is tellin’ me this wasn’t somethin’ he could have just let go. I remember…he was real protective of it.”

Jacob rubbed his brow, pursing his lips in effort. He went over to the empty area he thought the tent used to be. “It was right here. Newt asked me to feed the mooncalves…” he pointed at the moonlit hill. “Then I felt something…cold. Cold. It was snowing in here. What did he keep that liked the cold?”

“I don’t know,” Credence said. “There was an arctic serpent’s nest in his coin purse.”

“What color are those?” Jacob wondered.

“Uh…the nest was ice so…camouflage would make it white and blue?”

“Mmm, no that’s not right,” Jacob said. His eyes were closed, putting himself back in this memory. “There’s a hole here. I know it’s from the rain, but…no. The hole is it. It was somethin’ black and moving, like...levitating in the air. You know something like that?”

Jacob opened his eyes as he turned, but Credence had turned his back to him. “Obscurus,” he said quietly.

“Obscurus…” Jacob tested out the name. “Yeah…that sounds familiar. Put Newt’s accent on it and it sounds right,” he chuckled. He brushed his hands against each other and announced, “I think we’re done here. I’m headin’ out, do you want anything?”

Credence shook his head, not turning around. “No. I’ll stay here.”

“A’right. I think Queenie and I are going for a walk. If you change your mind, come find us.”

“Yeah,” he answered curtly, listening to Jacob leave the case. He heard the lid close.

Credence supposed this was the time to meditate, but what he wanted to do was talk to Newt. _He had an obscurus in here?_ he ruminated but behind it was a mixture of _I wasn’t the first,_ and something else. Something darker.

When he came out of the case, the room was dark, Tina having left with Jacob and Queenie. The antechamber outside had a sconce in the wall, its light licking the walls as he knocked on Dumbledore’s door.

No answer.

Credence knocked again but as no response came, he wondered if the sound barrier worked both ways. _If he’s angry about me entering, I can lie,_ Credence thought, already crafting a reason for the creatures to need him to find Newt.

The knob was unlocked, but Credence supposed if Albus really wanted no one entering, he would have removed the knob and hinges altogether and sealed the entryway with magic like the Ravenclaw dormitory. Credence slowly pulled the door open, but the room beyond was dark too…

Something silver caught his eye, and he looked through the crack of the door to see silver veins moving over the wall like light passing through water. A soft, deep voice was in the room. Credence carefully pulled the door further, his fist raised to knock again but another sound pierced the air. A sob.

Credence peeked around the door to where Albus stood by his table, talking to someone. Credence leaned just…a bit…over…

Newt sat on the table, his back to him. The light was from a metal bowl on the table, more like a concave disk, as well as the white tendril Albus was pulling out of Newt’s temple.

“Hic-mh,” Newt sobbed. His hand was over his eyes, the other arm protectively over his chest.

“You won’t forget, but you will feel lighter now,” Albus assured, his voice like warm water.

Credence could only gape. Spooked, he silently shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I writing a sex sounds or a yelling fest, I can’t tell. And peregrines are the fastest birds in the world~


	18. Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence confronts Newt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a double update but I seem to be the only one with any chill as Irma arrives (I'm way up in northern Florida, so no worries) but in case I get kicked out of my house before the next chapter is finished, I'll go ahead and leave this one here <3
> 
> Check back soon for the next one <333

“So I guess Slytherin won,” Tina said the next morning.

Hogwarts’s halls were full of students wearing just about every shade of green they could find. A student who had stained a white t-shirt with green ink ran past not so much singing as yelling, “SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN! LIKE SNAKES WE STRIKE ON BROOMS WE RIDE!”

“I didn’t think Slytherins would be the…bombastic type,” Tina laughed.

“Why’s that?” Jacob asked.

“Salazar Slytherin doesn’t have the best reputation,” Queenie said in her lofty voice.

“Well he’s a dead guy, right? He can’t dislike what he can’t see,” Jacob remarked before he added, “Or is he a ghost somewhere?”

“I don’t think he would have any interest sticking around,” Tina assured.

“Where’s Credence?” Queenie wondered as they walked past the great hall doors where some seventh years were having a late first meal. “He missed breakfast.”

“I think he went into Hogsmeade,” Tina considered.

“That sounds nice,” Queenie suggested.

“Did he go with Newt?” Jacob asked. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

“Newt’s been with Dumbledore,” Tina doubted. “Doing what, I don’t know.”

As they went down the stairs into the courtyard Jacob commented, “You seem bothered by that.”

Tina set her hands on her hips as she breathed the crisp air. “Doesn’t that seem…off? We’re here to help Credence transition into Hogwarts. For Albus Dumbledore to become his teacher. But he’s spending more time with Newt than anybody.”

“They write a lot to each other,” Queenie considered.

However Tina continued, “And he’s not even the headmaster. _Where is_ the headmaster?”

Jacob chuckled. “It doesn’t always take a plaque or a name tag to know who’s runnin’ a show.”

Tina sighed, her worry visible on her face. “Newt trusts him.”

Queenie lifted her shoulders. “That’s all we need, right?”

Her sister was torn. “Yeah but…”

Queenie pushed, “We haven’t been here long. Whatever business Newt and Dumbledore have will be over soon and Credence will get settled in.”

The corner of Tina’s mouth curved in a halfhearted smile. “This is the second time you haven’t been able to read somebody. I think that puts me on edge.”

“Third, if you count Grindelwald,” Queenie reminded.

“Who was the first?” Jacob asked.

“Chief Aiyana,” Queenie said. “Well, I did the first day of school, but she looked right at me and I felt her mind shut. Kinda hurt, actually. I mean, it was a relief in its own way, but the headache was awful.”

“Queenie’s being modest,” Tina corrected. “She was in the infirmary the whole first week of school. The migraines wouldn’t stop.”

“Is that why she didn’t meet with ya while we were there?” Jacob realized.

Queenie shrugged. “We talked about it before I returned to classes. It was sorta our little secret, us knowin’ about one another.”

Tina looked at them. “One another? Is Aiyana a legilimens?”

Queenie’s soft curls swung around her face but her lips pressed together. “Sure. Are we goin’ to Hogsmeade?”

“You’re lying,” Tina knew but there was humor in her voice.

“How do ya know?” Queenie said as she went down the stairs.

“I’m older than you. I taught you how to lie,” she interrogated on their way down.

“I got better at it than you,” her sister taunted.

“No you didn’t, and don’t distract me!” Tina chased.

*******

Pale air billowed from his lips. Credence was angry.

As he walked through the town, the smell of ice was in the air as the burn of the emotion ebbed, but his thoughts spiraled back around, and he was angry anew. It didn’t help how the town was not large enough to disperse his thoughts. Two laps of Hogsmeade did not yield new wonders to distract the mind.

It did, however, take some time for him to figure out why he was angry, because the answer was plain yet difficult to arrive to: Newt. He was angry at Newt.

Credence dragged his hand through his hair and scrubbed his palms down his face. He did not like this. This foreign kind of anger. This thing without answers. Before, he had known the cause of his distress, as well as how to eliminate it—

He halted in the middle of the street, horrified. _I don’t want to kill him,_ he exclaimed inwardly, physically shaking his head.

He glanced at a pair of wizards who were smoking outside of the Three Broomsticks, watching him. His jaw clenched, but he realized what he must look like, shaking his head like this. He marched forward, eager to get away from condemnatory eyes. This was difficult as Hogsmeade was small but Hogwarts was teaming with students.

_Is it Newt?_ he reconsidered as he found the edge of the forest and walked along it. _Jacob thinks he had an obscurus in the tent. Am I angry about the tent? I’ve had second-hand things, it can’t be that… Jacob’s forgotten about obscurials. He must not know I was one. Do I want him to know? There’s no point in being angry that he forgot._

His hands clenched and released, restless and cold. _I don’t miss my obscurus. It’s gone. Newt said it was killing me. Dumbledore too._

But the embers in his chest burned hotter. _I don’t like talking about it,_ he realized. _I was powerful with it…but I wasn’t happy. No one wanted me. That’s why it happened in the first place._

He exhaled silently, raggedly. _I miss the rage. It was easier. Newt wants me to be able to move on. Move on from having an obscurus…but Newt had one first. He had an obscurus in the case. Why didn’t he tell me? He put it in the tent. My tent…_

_He’s always been protective of the things he likes,_ Theseus had said. _Things._

He stopped, a new thought emerging. _The obscurus tent._ Every creature had its habitat: the erumpent her plain, the hippogriffs their forest, the graphorns their desert. Even the niffler had its burrow. The only person who did not have a sectioned-off area…was Newt. Even Credence had been given his space.

_Am I just another animal to him?_

_No…I’m a secret._

His expression hardened. _Secret._

*******

Newt was not seen at all that day. Nor the next.

He took his case with him from the room but it returned at night for Credence to sleep in and the creatures were clearly fed and their habitats cleaned but the man himself was nowhere to be seen.

With Newt mysteriously gone, Tina and Queenie took up the task of teaching him charms. It was a decent escape from his thoughts, those first practice duels with Tina; taking turns practicing an attack or defense charm and then baking muffins in midair with Queenie.

Dumbledore observed them at times, in the evening usually, casually giving Credence spells without explanation, as if he was seeing what Credence’s magic would do with the spell. He invited Credence for walks but it was only a discussion on his pre-bed meditations. With magic, Credence only progressed. With meditation, he only got worse, and even though Albus did not voice this, Credence felt weight in the professor’s silences.

Possibly the most aggravating was that he never returned to the topic of Credence’s memories. He waited for Albus to bring it up, to subtly mention something. The more days passed, the more Credence felt ridiculous for being scared of what he saw in the man’s office, because now his curiosity was blending with his anger and Queenie was reacting to him differently.

“Credence? You okay?” she said one afternoon.

“Fine.”

He could feel her staring. “You sure?”

“Yes,” he lied, turning to leave the room.

“That didn’t sound fine,” Jacob murmured.

Credence shut the door behind him but was stopped in the corridor by Professor Slughorn. “Ah, Credence, hello. Is Albus in?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, stepping around him.

“What about the Scamander fellow?”

“I don’t know where he is,” he uttered sharply, turning the corner and out of the teachers’ dormitory.

It was no surprise that evening, when Credence returned and the case was on Newt’s unused bed. When he lowered into it, things were different. The caravan was oddly…clean. Cleaner. Even the pile of buckets in the corner was polished. The chest of tools had been repacked. Credence looked around, realizing that was the state of most things: repacked, because fresh parcels of supplies were here now while other items were gone. Under the counter was usually a mess of various things haphazardly stuffed under it, but as Credence reached under to inspect the neatly stacked—

“Don’t! Ehm—” Credence looked up at Newt coming down the ladder. “It’s sharp.”

Credence said bluntly, “There are just boxes under here.”

“They’re poorly wrapped,” Newt said.

Credence stared at him. He recognized a bad lie when he heard one. “Where have you been?” he asked, looking at the bucket of shellfish Newt was holding.

“In the forest and a little north, closer to the sea,” Newt said. “Restocking provisions.”

“You have provisions,” Credence said. “Why didn’t you take me with you?”

Newt glanced at him as he reached for a dishtowel. “You’ve been having lessons, haven’t you?”

“From Tina and Queenie,” he contrasted. “Dumbledore only talks about breathing.”

Newt paused and looked at him. “Are you angry?”

Credence glanced around them. “You just left without telling anyone.”

A sort of cheeky smile lifted Newt’s lips. “Sorry. A habit.”

Wiping his hands, he tossed the towel back onto the counter and picked up the bucket to take into the case. Credence watched his movements, but when nothing else came, he followed him. “So that’s what you were doing? Finding…clams?”

“Scallops, cockles, mussels, oysters,” Newt narrated as he went to stand beside the saltwater on the wall. “They’ll keep the waters clean and are nice edibles if I am too slow in feeding the larger ones.”

Credence frowned. “Too slow? Are you planning to be away from the case?”

Newt withdrew his wand to send the shellfish upward toward the corner of the case, where a bright variety of reef and silt rested. “No but I like to be prepared for when I am busy.”

Credence’s hands kneaded the fabric of his trouser pockets. “Busy.”

The shellfish rising out of the bucket paused as Newt absorbed Credence’s expression. “Is something wrong?”

Suddenly Credence was not sure where to start. “I thought…more,” he sighed. “I expected more.”

“More,” Newt repeated, “from Hogwarts? From the professor?”

“He doesn’t practice spells with me. He stands around when Tina is helping me and not much else.”

“That’s probably because he doesn’t think you need his help in that regard,” Newt suggested before he looked down at the niffler standing on his hind legs to inspect the bucket’s contents. It tried moving shells around until he decided it was futile and outright pushed the bucket over. Credence looked at Newt, who only watched with a curious grin on his face. One after another, the niffler swatted the shells aside until he singled out three oysters and a mussel.

Newt knelt beside him, and tapped an oyster with his wand. It jumped into the air and the shells pried apart slightly. The niffler’s rear wiggled eagerly as something round and glistening squeezed out of the muscle. Newt took it between his pointer and thumb, lifting it higher for Credence to see. “A pearl.”

Credence accepted it, the small stone white apart for a pinkish moment in the light. “I’ve seen these in jewelry store windows. I didn’t know they came from animals.”

“Saltwater oysters, usually,” Newt said as the other oysters had their pearls extracted. They landed in his hand as the mussel’s shiny black shells parted. “But sometimes freshwater mussels make them too. A piece of sand finds its way into the wrong place, and the irritation causes the creature to excrete a fluid that over time hardens around the sand. Layers and layers later, it’s a pearl.”

Credence puzzled, “But that only makes it bigger and more irritating.”

A different sort of pearl came out of the mussel. A small, warty blue thing compared to the round oyster pearls. “For the creature, yes. Hidden and annoying and only growing larger the longer it is there. But once it is out, it can be appreciated for what it is and either discarded or used.”

Newt stood to hold the other pearls for Credence to see. “Another white, a black, and a blue. A good haul. The colorful ones are rare.”

Credence looked up from his hand to see a kind smile on Newt’s face before the niffler climbed up his body and snatched the pearls from their hands. Newt sighed as the creature scurried to its burrow. “Well. It’s was nice while we had them,” and he finished installing the shells in the fresh and saltwater.

The corners of Credence’s mouth teased at a smile, his belly tingling with something like happiness.

“Newt.”

The man had picked up the bucket to walk away, but he stopped to meet his gaze. “Would you practice with me?”

Newt brightened and sent the bucket away with magic. “Alright. It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

As they made their way to the grass, Credence drew his wand from the thigh holster. Murmuring under his breath, the hippogriff gate opened and a rush of light in the form of dozens of fireflies danced around Hector so the energetic foal cantered into the trees after them.

Newt’s steps slowed and he looked at Credence, who gazed mildly back. “Show off,” he smirked gently. Credence smiled.

*******

The next morning, Newt was not in the case.

Credence rubbed his eyes as he groggily peered around the habitats and sluggishly climbed the steps into the caravan—

He paused. Above, he could smell the aromas of breakfast drifting into the case, but down here, something was different. It took Credence a long moment to find it because it was familiar: the mess under the counter.

He blinked, gently scrubbing sleep from his face as he scrutinized the maze of tools, towels, and discarded pieces of parchment and paper. _It was organized last night…_ he wondered, and realized that the new boxes and parcels were nowhere to be found. Something in his chest sank. _Why is he hiding them?_

Then another day passed, and Horace Slughorn took Newt’s place at the breakfast table. Credence emerged from the case, took one look at the table and shut the lid, buckles clicking shut. “Where’s Newt?”

“Goodness! I didn’t see you up there!” Slughorn exclaimed, turning in his chair to look up at him.

“I believe he is in the owlery,” Albus said over his jam and creamed scone.

Credence came down the stairs as Slughorn asked, “Owlery? Shouldn’t you be with him, Albus?”

The professor shrugged with nonchalance. “He’s been there every morning. He has been impatient for a correspondence.”

“Yes, but—”

“It hardly requires two men to wait for an owl,” Albus interrupted smoothly.

“From where?” Credence asked quietly, his innards twisting.

Albus looked at him from his place by the stairs. “Europe, most likely.”

“Credence!” Queenie called as he swept from the room.

*******

But Newt was not in the owlery.

He wasn’t on the grounds.

He was not in Hogsmeade.

The school was echoing with the last voices of students going to lunch by the time Credence found Newt on the landing of one of the stationary flights of stairs. He stood on a landing which had a massive pointed arched window, high slants of light helping him read a single letter of paper. Newt’s head turned as he read each line, his shoulders heaving with air as if the words infused in his entire frame—

Credence rose silently on the stairs, but a scrape of a sole, a rustle of fabric closed the letter in Newt’s hands as he turned to face him. “Credence,” he sighed as if relieved. “I thought you’d be—are you all right?”

Red cheeked and glaring, he was not all right. “I’ve been everywhere looking for you.”

Newt’s eyes darted between his own. “What is it? Is it my case? Did something—”

“Is that all you care about?” Credence erupted. 

Newt’s features froze, unreadable. Credence waited for him to say something, but when nothing came his eyes moved between Newt and the letter. “Are you leaving?”

Newt looked down at the paper and envelope in his hands as if he had completely forgotten about it. “No. I promised I would stay for as long as you need me.”

Credence’s lips parted. “Then _why_ are you packing like _you’re leaving?”_

Newt blinked. “Are you unhappy here?”

“Answer the question,” he clipped.

Newt visibly recoiled. “I can’t stay here much longer,” he said quietly.

“You don’t want to stay here,” Credence revised.

“I didn’t say that—” Newt tried but Credence curtailed.

“You’re lying. You’re keeping secrets from me. You didn’t want me to see that letter.” Again, Newt’s gaze dropped as if he could not remember what he held. Credence inhaled, “Dumbledore said it would be from Europe. Are you going to Europe?”

Newt’s lips pressed together. “Yes,” he relented, “but not until you’re settled in.”

“Settled in?” he darkened. “Into what? A dormitory? I’m not in classes. I’m not a student. The only teachers I know are Dumbledore and Slughorn.”

Newt’s head sagged. “That’s my fault.”

“What? Why?” Credence fumed.

“The teachers aren’t fond of me,” he said quietly. “I thought keeping my distance would give them incentive to approach you—”

“You’re lying,” Credence interrupted. “Was I ever meant to be a student here?”

Newt did not frown. He did not smile. He didn’t do anything, and his lack of reaction was like a poker to Credence’s embers. “Yes, you are. Of course you are.”

“No I’m not,” he argued. “How can an obscurial ever be accepted into a school?”

“No one here thinks of you as an obscurial, Credence,” Newt tried to soothe.

“Then why am I categorized as one? Why did you put me in that tent like you did with the other obscurus?”

Newt paled. “What?”

Credence jaw muscles ticked. “Jacob remembered the obscurus you kept in the case.”

“That tent and yours are not the same,” Newt rushed but his voice was weak. “And that obscurus is gone.”

“It doesn’t matter. You kept it like another one of your creatures. The same way you’re keeping me.”

Newt’s weight shifted. “I only thought you’d want a room to yourself.”

“A room to myself or a place to hide me?”

Newt’s voice was dimmer yet. “Hide?”

“I’m a secret!” Credence burst. “Just like all of your creatures, I’m just another secret. I’m a creature like all the rest.”

Newt was silent. His eyes were wide and staring, but his refute came too late. “That’s not true,” he uttered.

“It is,” Credence swallowed. “You keep them until you find a place to get rid of them, and that’s what you’ve been doing with me. Ilvermorny wouldn’t take me so now we’re here.”

“Credence.”

“But he doesn’t _want_ me. Dumbledore doesn’t want me. You don’t want me. I’m just something you’re both dealing with. What did you think would happen once Dumbledore said no?”

“He hasn’t said no,” Newt tried to argue. “You’re over thinking this.”

“He’s bored of me! He hasn’t taught me anything! And since you’ve left it’s Tina and Queenie who make the time for me.”

Newt sighed, “I haven’t left, I’m right here. And I will stay right here for as long as—”

“I don’t need you.”

Newt blinked. “Pardon?”

“I don’t need you,” Credence repeated. “Because once Dumbledore is done returning whatever favor you’ve asked for, I’ll just go back to New York with Tina and Queenie.”

Newt was statuesque. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I’ve already done this before!” Credence trembled. “I’ve already been unwanted. I’ve already been someone’s secret, and I don’t like it.”

“You can’t.”

It was Credence’s turn to blink dumbly at him. “I _can’t?”_

“You can’t go back there,” Newt swallowed painfully. “It isn’t safe.”

Credence gaped incredulously. “Then I’ll go somewhere else—”

“No, don’t do that,” Newt shook his head.

Credence’s eyes widened angrily. “You can’t order me to do anything.”

“I’m not trying to. I only want to keep you safe—”

“Safe.”

Newt’s freckles paled.

“Safe.” Credence swallowed the word. “I don’t know what safe is, really.”

_“That’s not—”_ Newt whispered.

“True?” he finished. “It is. Because I had an obscurus no one will ever feel safe around _me._ That’s what makes me _unsafe._ It might have been better just to let me die in that subway.”

_“No. Don’t. Say. That.”_

Newt looked ill. They both did. “I’m tired of being a secret. Like I shouldn’t exist—”

“Credence,” Newt whispered.

“You said you’d stay as long as I needed, but I don’t need you. I did for a while but not anymore.”

He left and rushed up the stairs, leaving Newt on the landing.

Newt stood there for a moment, and then he slowly folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. He pocketed it and followed up the stairs at a sedated pace. Pickett looked up at him from his breast pocket. A soft croon emanated from him.

“It’s alright, Pickett,” Newt said but he did not quite hear it. “I…need—prepare. Then we’ll be…someplace warmer soon.”

*******

Lunch happened late at Hogwarts.

Or the sun set early over a Scottish winter.

Either way, it was evening when Newt flew down the stairs, his robe flapping over his heels as he came into view of the entrance. It wouldn’t be locked for another few hours but he had finished what he—

“Newt! Newt! Wait, please!”

He stopped short as Queenie grasped his elbow, her breaths heaving. “Not long,” she answered his unasked, _How long were you chasing me?_

Now as she looked at him, her eyes watered. “Don’t leave. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

Newt tried to open his mouth, but no words came out, and they didn’t need to as Tina and Jacob appeared on the landing above, out of breath. “Queenie—Newt?” Tina gasped. She looked at his case and back at him. “Where are you going?”

Newt’s eyes dragged off of her, wandering but not seeing. “Away.” He blinked and the muscle in his jaw clenched. “Away. I think that’s better.”

Queenie reached for his hands while Jacob exclaimed, “Now hold on just a minute, does this got somethin’ to do with Credence?”

Queenie did not look at him. She kept her eyes on Newt, who did not look anywhere. Jacob wiped a hand over his face. “This is my fault. It’s gotta be. Credence was actin’ strange ever since I remembered things I shouldn’ve.”

“You are to blame for nothing,” Newt countered. “This is my fault.”

“No it isn’t,” Queenie hushed.

“Hold on. Somebody fill me in here,” Tina demanded.

Jacob pivoted to her. “I remembered that obscurus Newt kept in his case before Grindel-Graves got rid of it. But I remembered it while I was with Credence. My big mouth did this.”

Tina frowned. “He’s mad you had an obscurus in the case?”

Newt looked behind him at the doors before he rushed, “It’s deeper than that.”

“So, you’re leaving?” Tina questioned. “Just because—Newt this is too soon, just give him time. Credence doesn’t exactly have the best record with cooling off quickly, but he will.”

“Yeah,” Jacob seconded. “What about what you told me when we got your erumpent back? Worrying is suffering twice. That’s what you said. You can’t run away now. Credence needs you.”

Newt’s lips pressed together, his eyes wet as he still refused to look at them. “He doesn't need me. Sometimes once is enough.” He sniffed and failed to sound light hearted. “Besides, he has you three. What could he ever need me for?”

“Newt…” Tina uttered. “You can’t really believe that. You saved his life.”

“Yes, and that’s a bit of a one-time thing,” Newt finished. He gently parted from Queenie under the excuse of switching the hands holding his case. “If you need to reach me, Theseus can do it.”

“Newt,” Tina exclaimed the same time Jacob said, “Hold on.”

But Newt’s eyes lifted to lock with Queenie’s. Her lips parted as his thoughts poured into her. Tears raced down her cheeks as Newt pulled his gaze away, but he hesitated in moving. He closed his eyes to say, “His birthday is March first.”

Queenie gasped a trembling breath as he twisted away from them. “But that’s after tomorrow!”

The doors swung open at his command and he leapt over the stairs into the courtyard, the doors closing behind him before Tina could catch up.

Jacob pursed his lips, watching him go as he put an arm around Queenie, who sobbed as Tina remarked, “That’s twice now.”

“I don’t think he ever predicted getting expelled like this,” Jacob concurred.

*******

The doors of Hogwarts opened and shut quickly, but not as quickly as Newt moving over the courtyard. A huff of pain escaped him as his stride turned sideways and he disappeared down the winding stairs of the mountain.

Leaning against the cloisters, Albus Dumbledore stood erect to take lazy steps forward. He turned to gaze up at the clock face, the numbers glistening in the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to angst we go *whistles and pirouettes out of sight*
> 
> *Comes back to whisper* When your boy is finally confident enough to argue but he's scary 0_o


	19. Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus confronts Credence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus, this is a long one. Albus vaguely mentions his sister in this chapter, since she was an obscurial, but if you don't want to dip back into Deathly Hallows you can read up on her [here~](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Ariana_Dumbledore)
> 
> Also I cried while writing this, so.....look forward to that.

Something changed.

Credence awoke on one of the beds, breakfast already steaming on the table below, but Queenie and Jacob were not there. Tina sat alone, drinking coffee as she read the _Daily Prophet._ This was not abnormal so he came down the stairs and ate some toast, porridge, and eggs while Tina asked if he wanted to practice magic outside. It was sunny and fresh so they found a place by the lake where students were unlikely to go and started transfiguring rocks into various items.

When one of the stones caught on fire instead of turning into a pen, Credence might have taken it as an omen. Instead, he cast again and it was his wand that engulfed in flames. Dropping it onto the bank, the wet soil put the flames out but not before the white wood was damaged beyond repair and the horn within was visible.

“Mr. Ollivander will be glad for you patronage,” Tina japed cautiously.

These events were not yet abnormal.

Professor Slughorn joined them for lunch beside the lake, but so did two other teachers: the one for herbology and another who was a ghost but he did not seem to be aware he was dead. He was barely visible given the brightness of the day but he craned his neck as if he could absorb the light. 

Credence thought nothing of them until a pattern quickly developed.

There was the defense against the dark arts teacher, the flying instructor, and the astronomy professor. Even the caretaker came by to give the Hogwarts guests a belated welcome. After the ninth Hogwarts resident came up to Credence and Tina on their way to dinner, Tina remarked, “Incredible.”

“What?”

“Nothing, really. Just impressed by how unimpressive people can be. Newt talks a lot but British wizards aren’t much different from American ones. These teachers are suddenly so welcoming once Newt’s not around.”

Credence turned away. “He said something like that.”

Tina eyed him as she followed beside him, a step behind. “Really? What else did Newt say?”

“Not much.”

Tina blew air into her cheeks. Credence may have been just shy of twenty but nineteen was still a teenager. “Maybe that’s why he left.”

Credence stopped. “He left?” and just quickly continued through the corridor, “Never mind.”

Tina’s brows lifted as she followed. Credence stopped. “Are you blaming me?”

She shrugged. “No. At least, only halfway. I’m more surprised. I thought Newt was better at talking, but then again he does clam up during interrogation. Turns out you’re both pretty bad at communicating.”

Her face remained innocently nonchalant despite his glare. “What is there to talk about?”

Her eyes were steady. “A lot.” Her weight shifted on her feet. “Thing is, it’s all the sorta stuff Newt should be the one to tell you. But he’s not here, so…we’ll need to figure this out.”

He stared at her until he frowned. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

“There’s no point until you relax,” Tina finished, strolling past him. “Do that meditation thing Dumbledore assigned you. It might help.”

He huffed an annoyed breath and remarked, “You don’t use it.”

She rotated. “I don’t use…?”

“Meditation. I’ve never seen you use it.”

Tina smiled in a way he did not understand. “I can’t really complain. You’re finally acting your age.”

That wiped the anger off of his face and replaced it with vacant wonder. She lazily made her way back to him. “I shouldn't be surprised. Every source of authority in your life has been a source of crippling neglect or outright abuse. Now that I think about it, someone really should have expected you would buck in the saddle.”

His brows flattened. “What.”

“Grab the wheel from the driver? My ma was the bumpkin. Pa had to translate her idioms too. What I mean is you have trust issues.”

“Of course I have trust issues,” he uttered, oddly calm.

Her lips curved softly but a lower voice answered, “I had a suspicion.”

Credence turned to see Albus strolling up the hallway, his hands in his pockets. “You were right, Tina. I did expect, but at the risk of being misinterpreted, I must say that Newt was my first priority. Now allow me to explain. Credence, would you join me, please.”

He went ahead as Credence and Tina exchanged glances but Albus called back, “Time is rather of the essence, so if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Go,” Tina nodded in Albus’s direction with an annoyed roll of her eyes.

Credence jogged to catch up as Dumbledore was already on the last length of stairs toward the teachers’ wing. This time, doors opened for him without him uttering a word, but he did close the door of his room himself after Credence passed through it. Then Credence stopped at the sight of the silver bowl on the table.

Albus read this and said, “No need to be afraid.”

“You said it was painless.”

“It is. You only caught Newt and I during a difficult memory.”

Credence looked at him. “You knew I was there?”

The man’s blue eyes glittered as he passed him. “Yes,” he answered simply.

Going to the table, he moved the bowl so it rested between where he and Credence stood. “I was going to be much more patient in this but…I underestimated my colleagues’ behaviour and how this would create a rift between the two of you.”

Credence sighed. “I don’t care about the teachers. They’re not the problem.”

“No, Newt has been too long away from me. That is the problem. And our reunion being in this place… I wanted to meet him elsewhere. For him to wait until summer so I would have the liberty to go anywhere, but he insisted on getting you someplace safe quickly.” His gaze roamed around the room, as if all of Hogwarts was in his field of vision.

Credence shook his head. “Wait—I don’t understand. Newt loves Hogwarts. What do you mean, he shouldn’t have come back?”

Albus’s clear eyes landed on him. “He didn’t tell you he was expelled. In his fifth year.”

This information was like a car turning onto his street, only to realize he was standing in the middle of the road. After a moment that sank in, and all at once the blood drained from his face. “Expelled? He couldn’t…”

“I’m afraid he was,” Dumbledore confirmed sadly.

Credence swallowed but it only made him feel sick. “Why? And why would he come back for me?”

The man’s head dropped as if he needed to look over the spectacles resting on his nose. “I will answer your inquiries. First, why Newt was expelled, and then last as to why he returned for you. Take a seat.”

Credence did, suddenly grateful to be off his feet. “Have you heard the name Lestrange, Credence?”

His head lifted. “I think so.”

“There are several names you will encounter in the magical world, names not unlike your Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, and Carnegie. Powerful family names that hold leverage in our society for various reasons. Such names for us are Lestrange, Black, Potter, my own, and many others. Their reasons for prowess are not money, like your muggle tycoons. In the case of the Lestranges, well, their reputation is in their name. They have always been attracted to the strange, the unique, the peculiar, but over time this has drawn them into the realm of dark magic. They are a dangerous family. In what context did you hear of them?”

Credence had to dig to find the moment. “I think…Tina or Queenie said—no, they asked me if I knew someone. If I had…seen a picture of…”

“Leta Lestrange, perhaps?”

His eyes lifted and he nodded. “Who is she?”

“She is the one who should have been expelled instead of Newt.”

His brows furrowed. “Then…why wasn’t she?”

Albus leaned back in his chair. “Because a powerful family like the Lestranges has influence over the ministry. As well as the fact that Newt tried to stop what she was doing, however this resulted in all evidence pointing to him instead.”

Credence leaned forward. “He didn’t he tell anyone whose fault it was?”

Albus smiled, but the transformation on his face revealed bags under his eyes and a less pleasant side to nostalgia. “No, he didn’t. Because she was not a Lestrange to him. She was his friend.”

Credence puzzled, “But you said they were dangerous.”

“Yes, but when has Newt ever shied from dangerous creatures,” Albus said, real mirth in his tone again. “They were both peculiar compared to their peers when they were here, and this brought them together where they discovered similarities in one another. They both spoke French. They both liked animals since humans were too difficult to get along with. They got on quite well, but in the holidays he returned to his Scamanders and she the Lestranges. His roots were always in a home of open-minded kindness and the pursuit of knowledge. Hers were in a segregated family of prestige, judgment, and strict pureblooded beliefs. It would not surprise me at all if she was scolded or worse for befriending Newt, the child of a squib and a betrayer.”

At Credence’s expression he nodded, “The magical population has moved past racial divisions, thankfully, but how do muggle individuals respond to biracial marriages, hm?”

Credence pressed his lips together. “Not well.”

“It’s a similar sentiment to families like the Lestranges when another witch or wizard involves themselves with someone of mixed blood, or lacking magic entirely.”

Credence swallowed thickly. “I didn’t think…he dealt with such things.”

“Oh, we have our own prejudices,” Dumbledore sighed. “Which Gellert has capitalized on, but one thing at a time.”

Credence nodded once and asked, “What was she doing? What did Newt fail to cover up?”

“Have you heard of a jarvey?” Albus asked. Credence shook his head. “It’s a rather overgrown ferret, but with the ability to talk and remember phrases like a parrot, however those phrases are usually of the vulgar and profane variety, but that’s irrelevant.

“First years here are required to bring an animal for their transfiguration class, usually an owl or a toad, but the animal restrictions loosen as they grow up. Some students bring a cat, others a ferret. So it was no one’s concern when Leta’s young ferret arrived with her for their fifth year. Newt, as you would expect, recognized it immediately, but it was still growing and therefore raised no one’s suspicions.

“As I said: they are prone to profane speech, and a school of teenagers is a superb place to learn such things. They could not hide what he was much longer, what with his speech developing as well as his size. So she sought a way to freeze his growth, even to reverse it back to the state of a harmless ferret. However, Newt found her notebook too late; she was privy to dark magic spells from her home, which she shared with him…and she got it wrong. Like the notebook, he found her too late and she was already in the middle of the enchantment. Instead of shrinking the creature, she enlarged it, to the point of it being a bomb.”

Albus shook his head. “Blood, bone, and fur slicing through the air at deadly speeds. Nasty thing to clean up as it is, but she made the even greater mistake of asking another student for help. They suffered the worst of the blast, and their near death was the reason the ministry arrested Newt without delay despite it being strictly against both Hogwarts and ministry regulations to treat a child like an adult criminal.”

Credence's lips parted. “And…how are wizard criminals treated?”

Albus sat with his knees crossed and his fingertips pressed together like steeples. “With a hearing. It was by far the most ludicrous action the ministry had taken in decades, which is saying something. I am sure the Lestranges rushed it along as well, the faster someone other than Leta could be convicted, the better, but the damage was already done to Newt. He had been torn from school and locked in a cell away from all contact with his family until the trial, and then it was just he and I on the floor.”

“You?”

“Oh yes. Newt was a gifted student. My student. I admit to having a certain proclivity for the misunderstood great ones. We shouldn’t have favourites, I suppose, but Newt landing in the clutches of corrupted hands was something I could not abide by.”

Albus fell silent, his eyes sinking in their sockets as they no longer saw Credence or the present. “He wasn’t fifteen anymore…sitting in that chair, chained like something feral. He was eleven, fresh and small as the day he arrived at Hogwarts. Utterly terrified. He couldn’t speak. The entire interrogation was a farce and Leta certainly was not coming to claim her punishment. She abandoned him. It was only a matter of time before they sentenced him to something close to slavery until he was an adult, and by then he might as well enter the muggle world for work since the wizarding one would not have him. This meant certain death, as the war was about to begin, and all able hands would be called forth.

“But the Dumbledore name holds power too. I hold power, and I called upon every wizard and witch in that hearing. I undoubtedly made several enemies that day but I do not fear a single one. Convincing them to cancel his expulsion was impossible, but changing his sentence was easy, especially since they doubted my ability to follow through.

“We have two important exams here: the O.W.L.S and the N.E.W.T.S. The latter is ironic, I know, but it gets better. The first, Newt was to take at the end of his fifth year, the latter in his seventh. I convinced the council to drop his charges and give him to me for the rest of that spring and summer, at the end of which he would take both and pass with nothing short of exemplary on all subjects. They laughed in my face and told me to go right ahead, sure I would be the fool in the end. You will find, Credence, that the swiftest methods toward getting your way in this word are the stroking of egos, especially at the expense of your own.”

Then he smiled. “So I had Newt all to myself for almost five months, and it has been, to date, the most remarkable five months of my life. He’s brilliant and almost as mad as myself. We got on splendidly.”

Credence realized he was hanging onto every word like air. He exhaled raggedly, closing his eyes. “I…forgot.”

“Hm?” Albus chimed.

“Newt said…it was when we first tried to leave New York. He said you had given him kindness when you didn't need to. That you were the wisest person he knew.”

“Well yes, I am,” he chuckled.

“I think he and Theseus said you were humble at some point too,” Credence added bluntly.

The next chuckle was dark and heavy in Albus’s throat. “I know my abilities. Because of this I also know the destruction of pride. I call upon it when the occasion suits it, but I no longer wield it as I once did. But even I forget as well. That is why I have this,” he gestured to the bowl. “So I can go back and see things my mind otherwise distorts, loses, or exaggerates over time. I can go back to those five months any time I like with the help of this instrument, called a pensieve; which I have done to remind myself of how Newt behaves under certain burdens, as well as how he shines once healed of them. Well, you already know that, don’t you.”

Credence reacted. “I do?”

Albus inhaled, sitting up. “Yes, I think it is time for this now.”

He brought the bowl close to the edge of the table. Credence shifted in his seat. “Its usage is simple: place your face in the contents.”

Credence stared at him. “What. But…it’s water.”

“It isn’t,” he smiled patiently. “It is a solution in which memories may swim freely and safely, without mixing and blending and becoming utterly ruined. You will be able to breathe perfectly well.”

Credence doubted this but moved on. “What will I see?”

“I will go in with you, since there are several memories we will be sifting through.”

Credence measured the diameter of the pensieve with his eyes. Two faces would not fit on it. By this time, he thought it best not to question Dumbledore’s methods and obediently moved his chair closer so his face hovered over the bright silver contents. He tilted his head so his eyes would be what touched the surface, but the moment his nose entered the depths, he plummeted face first onto…a rooftop.

A rooftop in New York.

They were in Manhattan.

He rotated and blurted, “Oh!” at the massive lit sign for _Squire’s_ sharing the roof he was on, but on the other side of it, was none other than Jacob, Tina, Queenie, and Newt.

 _“Jes-s-is is that it? That’s the obscurial thing?”_ Jacob exclaimed.

Credence rushed beside them, looking down over the massive cloud of ash tearing apart windows, building facades, and automobiles on the street.

 _“That’s more powerful than any obscurial I’ve ever heard of,”_ Newt said, his deep voice soft with wonder and fear.

Credence understood it was himself he was seeing down there, but looking at it was a vastly different experience. The flashes of orange burning within the obscurus were bright, certain flares enhanced as Newt's memory focused on them.

Suddenly he turned to Tina. _“If I don’t come back, look after my creatures,”_ he said, handing his case to her. He fumbled in his rush to pull a notebook out of one of his pockets. _“Everything that you need to know is in there.”_

 _“What?”_ she breathed.

“Let’s pause here,” Albus surprised Credence. He stood beside him, looking up at Newt on the edge of the roof. He stepped forward and up, inhabiting the exact spot Newt stood, only Albus passed right through him like he was a fully coloured ghost. “There you are, and my, you are something to behold.”

“I don’t understand,” Credence said. “I was there. Why are you showing me this?”

Albus looked back at him. “I thought you might be interested in a different perspective. Although we arrived out of sequence. Let’s start again.”

With a wave of his hand, the environment around them changed like coloured sand being kicked on a beach. Instead they now stood in a small room with a table and five other people. The breath caught in Credence’s throat, for at the table sat Newt and Percival Graves.

They were silent.

Tina stood behind Newt with people in white robes on either side of her. She looked worried and stressed. Newt was frozen in something of a stupor.

 _“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Scamander,”_ Graves said under the bright fluorescent bulb.

“Look closely,” Albus said, wandering the room, or in what little space there was.

“At what?” Credence uttered, unable to take his eyes off of Graves.

 _“Mr. Graves,”_ Tina stepped forward, but the man pushed a finger to his lips, moving the flesh around as he shook his head at her. Silenced, she stepped back against the wall. Credence’s head turned at the subtle jingle of the manacles around her wrists. His gaze jerked to Newt’s behind his back.

“They’re arrested.”

Albus did not answer. Instead, his eyes were on Graves as he looked down at a document on the table. _“Thrown out of Hogwarts for…endangering human life—”_

 _“That was an accident,”_ Newt declared softly, turning his head even further away from him.

 _“—With a beast?”_ he looked inquiringly at Tina as well as accusatorially. _“Yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now…what makes Albus Dumbledore…so fond of you?”_

Newt was quiet. After a moment he shook his head. _“I really couldn’t say,”_ he said weakly.

 _“So setting a pack of dangerous creatures loose here was…”_ Graves looked at the others again, _“just another accident? Is that right?”_

 _“Why would I do it deliberately?”_ Newt returned, his eyes on the table.

 _“To expose wizard kind,”_ Graves supplied. _“To provoke war between the magical and non-magical worlds.”_

 _“Mass slaughter for the greater good, you mean?”_ Newt said more strongly. 

_“Yes,”_ he exhaled. _“Quite.”_

 _“I’m not one of Grindelwald’s fanatics…Mr. Graves.”_ Newt blinked and looked up at him.

The corners of Graves’ mouth twitched in a smile and he said. _“I wonder what you can tell me about this…Mr. Scamander.”_

He turned to the side of the table, which until now had been a vague patch of nothing but it solidified now as a much smaller cloud of black ash rose into sight, swirling inside a captivity bubble. The difference between it and Credence’s was like a bus and the niffler.

Newt visibly reacted, a small sound escaping him as his features twitched at the sight of the obscurus, caught between anguish, fear, and something else Credence could not name. Tina was clearly horrorstruck before Newt rotated to explain, _“It’s an obscurus…but it’s not what you think—I managed to separate it from the Sudanese girl as I tried to save her—so I wanted to take it home to study it. But it cannot survive outside that. It cannot hurt anyone, Tina.”_

 _“So it is useless without the host,”_ Graves summarized.

 _“Useless…”_ Newt turned back around. _“Useless? That is a parasitical magical force that killed a child—what on earth would you use it for?”_

Graves looked between Newt and the others, somewhat restlessly as he stood and proclaimed, _“You fool nobody, Mr. Scamander. You brought this obscurus into the city of New York in the hope of causing mass disruption, breaking the Statute of Secrecy and revealing the magical world—”_

 _“You know that can’t hurt anyone. You_ know _that—”_ Newt argued.

 _“You are therefore guilty of a treasonous betrayal of your fellow wizards,”_ Graves continued, _“and are sentenced to death.”_

Credence’s features went slack.

Then one of the women in white put her wand to Newt’s neck—

“Remember that this is a memory. These events have already transpired,” Albus said gently. “You and I are still in my office, and I would appreciate it if you did not blow anything up in your haste to defend Newt from the past.”

Credence blinked at him and realized he could hear Fawkes twittering anxiously as if from a great distance. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm done,” he disregarded. “Have you been paying attention?”

“What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“This man is not Percival Graves,” Albus narrated with a hand gesture. “In this room, in this exact moment, is when Newt discovered this. Let’s watch it again.”

The memory dispersed and solidified once more at the beginning. Graves was looking at Newt as if examining him. He spoke, but Tina interrupted and Graves strictly silenced her before the memory paused.

“You know about legilimency,” Albus said, his tone inquiring.

“Yes, Newt said Grindelwald was good at it,” Credence confirmed.

“Certainly, and Tina just interrupted his trying to read Newt’s mind.”

Credence looked between them. “Newt doesn’t look bothered, though.”

A small smile flashed on Albus’s face. “Gellert doesn’t have the talent with languages I have. Newt’s bilingual mind is like a coded message to him, but he reacted all the same at being interrupted. What does he do next?”

Credence looked at the man whose lips were pushed to one side. “He…tells her to be quiet? He moves his skin around?”

“Yes!” Albus pushed. “When was the last time you did such a thing?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. When I was a kid?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “That’s _such_ a unique mannerism for someone who has otherwise lived in the same skin for forty-odd years, isn’t it?”

Understanding dawned on Credence’s face. “But he hasn’t lived in this skin that long. It’s new, so—” he grimaced. “—he’s playing with it?”

“Well he is a psychopath,” Albus said offhandedly, “but to be fair, he changed his appearance with polyjuice potion. No skin was actually borrowed. Let us continue.”

Graves read the papers and questioned Newt further. _“So setting those creatures loose was…just another accident? Is that right?”_

“He’s grappling,” Albus said. “He pauses and looks at the others to bide his time, to conjure up his next words. Percival Graves, a man who has interrogated many a criminal far worse than Newt would not hesitate like this.”

Graves kept talking and Credence remembered, “Newt said he knew when Grindelwald talked like this. How he didn't hesitant to talk about the difference between magic people and muggles.”

“Oh yes,” Albus approved, “everyone loves their own opinions and will too eagerly express them.”

_“I’m not one of Grindelwald’s fanatics…Mr. Graves.”_

“There it is. The smile,” Albus said darkly. “This is the moment he knew he needed to kill Newt and Tina. He distracts them with the obscurus as well as to get his own questions answered—”

“Why did he want to use the obscurus?” Credence interrupted.

Albus tapped his nose. “Let us resume.”

The memory vanished and they were once more on the rooftop. Newt was giving his case to Tina and Credence’s obscurus wrecked havoc down below. _“If I don’t come back, look after my creatures. Everything that you need to know is in there.”_

 _“What?”_ she gasped, but Newt was watching Credence.

 _“They’re not killing it,”_ he murmured, meeting her gaze briefly.

_“NEWT!”_

But he had already leapt off the roof and disapparated. Darkness surged around them and Credence recognized the feeling of apparition sucking him along. They landed on the street below, following Newt among wreckage of automobiles and debris. He paused as he spotted Graves approaching the obscurus across the street.

 _“To survive so long…with this inside you, Credence! Is a miracle! You_ are _a miracle—_

_He’s dying from the inside out, don’t provoke him._

Credence followed the voice to Newt watching Grindelwald in Graves’ skin. “You will hear his thoughts,” Albus explained briefly. “The clear ones, at least.”

 _“Come with me,”_ Graves said. _“Think of what we could achieve together.”_

The obscurus roared and knocked him back as Credence’s own anger sparked. “I knew he was using me…but not this much.”

Newt ran for an overturned vehicle, hiding as it rocked against the fringes of the obscurus.

_“Newt!”_

He looked at Tina behind another car. _“It’s the Second Salem boy. He’s the obscurial.”_

Tina’s uttered, _“But he’s not a child!”_

Newt looked over the torn edge of the vehicle. _“H-His power must be so strong he’s-s-somehow managed to survive!”_

“He’s scared…” Credence whispered.

The obscurus moved down the street, but its flares were unpredictable. Credence felt a sharp pain in his hip as Newt ducked, adjusting the weight on his feet…

“You will feel what he feels as well,” Albus said quietly.

 _“Newt,”_ Tina called. He looked at her. _“Save him.”_

She stood and went around the car. Newt watched her briefly but his mind was vacant as he too stood, and disapparated. “Where is he going?” Credence exclaimed.

“After you, obviously,” Albus said as darkness surrounded them momentarily.

“Obviously?”

Albus looked at him as Newt briefly waited on another rooftop to see which way the obscurus would go. Tina was distracting Graves on the street. “He left his case behind with a manual. What does that tell you?”

Credence’s eyes felt heavy, his heart even heavier. As suction moved them along, Newt apparated from rooftop to rooftop in the obscurus’s wake until he landed ahead of it. _“Credence!”_ he yelled, putting his hands up defensively. _“Credence, I can help—”_

The obscurus was not stopping, inducing him to apparate across the street. Newt ran along the rooftop, and leapt into another burst of travel as blue blasts of magic knocked into the vast spray of obscurus matter. When he remerged, he blocked one that had bounced off of it and just as quickly cast another counter spell, fighting the aurors on the other side of the street with the intent on capturing Credence under Graves’ orders.

Newt had to stop behind a rooftop door, guarding himself from attack as he peeked around and watched the obscurus take too many hits and begin to fall. Moving to where he could see the police barricade, Newt saw it crash into the barricade before it rose up in a pillar of destruction and thunderously landed, scattering vehicles and pavement like a shockwave. All at once the black receded, and Credence limped down the stairs of the subway stairs.

 _Injured,_ Newt thought, like a whisper. Credence looked at him incredulously.

Darkness surrounded them, and then they were in the subway station, Newt carefully moving down the stairs. He looked up at he flickering lights and mass of porous obscurus moving along the ceiling. The very walls seemed to be throbbing, and Credence realized he could hear a heartbeat.

“He was more than scared,” Albus commented indifferently. “He was terrified.”

Newt lowered himself onto the first set of tracks and slowly peered around the tiled arch separating them. The obscurus was slowly dragging along the wall, calm. Newt put his back to the tiles, quickly sliding his wand into his sleeve. _“Credence…”_

The only reply he received was his loud heartbeat in his ears. _“It is Credence…isn’t it?”_ he tried again, to silence. _“I’m here to help you, Credence. Please, I’m not here to hurt you.”_

Credence looked into Newt’s eyes, glazed over and his thoughts vacant. “Why isn’t he thinking anything?”

“He doesn’t need to,” Albus said as the silence encouraged Newt to roll his shoulders over the tile and face the obscurus. “There isn’t a doubt in his mind that this is the right thing.”

_“I’ve met someone just like you, Credence… A girl. A young girl who’d been imprisoned.”_

Something flashed in front of Credence’s eyes. Like a face.

_“She had been locked away, and she’d been punished for her magic.”_

A small, thin girl in a bright yellow dress flashed in front of Credence again. And something else, like bars on a window.

The obscurus rustled along the brick wall, falling and collapsing until Credence looked down at himself kneeling on the ground. It was strange…seeing himself there, crouched as if the smaller he could get, the better he would disappear. His own memories resurfaced, and he realized how he felt then and what he felt now were vastly different. He had been so afraid. Newt had been just another evil approaching him—

A feeling bloomed inside him, light and bright and strange. Credence looked between himself and Newt and realized the version of him kneeling there was…closer somehow. Locked in Newt’s gaze and oddly bright.

Credence put a hand on his chest as the sensation only grew. “What is this?”

“Hope,” Albus said. “Happiness. Newt believes he can save you.”

 _J'ai du temps,_ Credence heard Newt whisper in his thoughts.

 _“You don’t know me,”_ he said aloud. _“I am friends with Tina Goldstein. You’ve met, you and her. She wanted to do a great deal more for you than she could—than this country’s silly wizarding laws allowed—but let’s leave politics aside, shall we?”_

Credence laughed suddenly. “I had no idea what he was talking about.”

“He was never good at engaging with people,” Albus relinquished.

Credence’s smile faltered as he looked at him. Albus met his gaze. “Well you are a person, aren’t you?”

Newt was speaking again. _“Credence…you’re dying. Not because of them up there, but because you have something called an obscurus inside you. It’s a parasitical force that is made when one’s magic is deeply suppressed and abused. I know you’re fighting, Credence. Bless you, you’ve been fighting all your life, but…you’re not winning this. You aren’t letting your magic be free. It’s transforming into something else. It’s eating you. And it will eat you until you have nothing left. Until you are nothing but a name on someone’s breath.”_

“I thought…I was just another obscurus to him,” Credence said quietly. “Just another creature.”

Albus listened patiently. “Well I think Gellert has already illustrated the difference.” To Credence’s puzzled expression, he elaborated, “Gellert saw the obscurus, but since it is a parasite needing a host, he needed you. Newt, however…”

“Only saw me,” he breathed, looking at himself with Newt’s eyes once more. Like something precious.

Newt’s lofty hope plummeted against the rush of shame in Credence’s chest. He turned away from Dumbledore, but the man read him as easily as a memory. “I’m afraid there is more pain to behold.”

Credence looked at him dubiously. _Worse than this?_

“I suppose now is the time to realize that I am not a kind man, Credence,” Albus declared softly. “I did more than ask Newt for his memories regarding Gellert. You might have noticed he is not here.”

He pivoted on his feet, looking along the train tracks. “I asked—no. I rather tricked Newt to give me everything he had on obscurials, because if Gellert would go so far as to capture one to use for a tool of destruction, I needed to know everything. I thought I already was an expert on obscurial matters but Newt outmatched me.”

Credence frowned as the memory around them changed. Suddenly they were not in a cold subway station, but a hot and humid marketplace. Dirt kicked up to stick to his face as it did to Newt’s but Newt ignored the itch.

“This is the memory you witnessed me taking,” Albus said as Newt watched a swirl of dirt in the wind. Like a miniature tornado, it danced across the bustling bazaar, but instead of dispersing when people walked through it, it swerved around them. Newt had a large notebook under his arm that held his suitcase and a canvas pouch that rattled with pencils as he smiled, watching and following the dirt through the marketplace.

 _Où es-tu?_ he voiced internally, looking around until he felt eyes on him and found sharp brown ones watching him from the face of a young girl. She reminded Credence of Modesty because of her age, but the girl was brown like a roasted nut, her hair a matted tangle on her head despite the bright yellow dress on her skinny frame.

Newt’s smile widened, but she vanished in the crowd. People and vendor stalls blurred around them until they solidified once more, in a different day. This time a commotion drew Newt to where several people stood around something, speaking animatedly in a language neither Credence nor Newt understood. Newt leaned to see…the body of a man, pale as death on the ground. Harsh grooves were on his face and the front of his garments were shredded.

Newt’s attention piqued, recognizing a word among the conversations: _Seher._

Lowering his head, he moved on, only to pause at the glimpse of yellow in in the dead man’s hand: a small shred of fabric. Newt’s features softened with understanding, and he looked up, searching the bazaar for…

The memory changed to Newt waiting beside the entrance to an alley, skewers of roasted meat and peppers he'd purchased pungent in the late evening air. He stood leaning against the building, looking at the stars as a skinny hand reached out and snatched one of the skewers. _“I don’t suppose you speak English,”_ Newt said softly.

 _“Eee!”_ she shrieked. Footfalls pattered down the alley.

Newt sighed, _“Unlucky.”_

He peeked around the corner, before the last sight of yellow vanished in the darkness. A small blue firefly sparked from his wand, following to land in her hair. Reaching into his pocket, he flicked open a compact, inside of which was a mirror, but instead of his reflection, he saw the girl. Credence waited for him to follow her but he only stood watching as she ducked through basement doors, dashing out of the streets and into them once more.

“He waits here for a couple of hours,” Albus narrated. “But children keep to what they know.”

The light around them changed as he sped up the memory, and Newt smiled as he put the mirror back in his pocket and sat on the ground as the girl stumbled out of the alleyway once more for the second skewer. _“Hello.”_

She gasped, knocking into the wall and wielding her finished skewer at him. Newt said something that sounded like, _“Ana asif,”_ and pressed his lips together in an apologetic smile. _“I’m afraid I don’t speak your language very well. Lathith?”_

He pointed to the food. Her dark eyes flicked to it and she held it out to him. He shook his head and gestured, _I give it to you._

Her brows furrowed and her mouth pouted in anger. She held it so far it poked his collarbone, the prod aching on Credence’s own chest. Newt smiled sadly, understanding she did not trust him, so he picked off a pepper and ate it.

A breeze swept past, dusting over his face, making his eyelashes flutter, but he never looked away from her. The wind blew harder, the sound of paper somewhere and a door slamming, but Newt only smiled. _“Reducio ventus.”_

The wind deceased, relaxing into a tranquil movement of air around them. The girl’s eyes were wide on him. He lifted a hand, gesturing once before he slowly ventured to reach toward her. Credence felt the soft pinna of her ear as Newt’s fingertips traced it and pulled out the blue light from her hair. Her eyes absorbed the light as he held it between them—

The blue sparked like a tiny firework, and with a wave of Newt’s hand swirled into an elephant shaking its trunk on his palm. A shy gasp moved in the girl’s throat. Warily, she reached for it, but when she touched it the light perched on her hand in the shape of a bird, blooming yellow instead of blue.

“It is an ancient game,” Albus said softly, “the first lesson in magic taught to children: how to play with it safely.”

“He did things like this on the ship to England,” Credence nodded. “But the muggles thought they were just…tricks.”

Newt pulled on the bird, its feathers like shards of light that grew into a new bird on his own finger. The bird reached for its origin, nuzzling the girl’s light as if to clean the bird’s feathers…but it was fading.

“What’s happening?”

“She’s dying,” Albus said. “The obscurus has been in her too long. Newt doesn’t know yet.”

The bird on her finger shrank and dimmed but the one on Newt’s vanished as he cupped his hands around hers. _“Lumos avem,”_ he whispered over their fingers. The bird grew once more, yellow fading to white. They looked at one another over the light, Newt’s face was full of intrigue and hope while hers was like she was facing something new—

Gruff voices broke the night’s tranquility, shocking her and extinguishing the light as she ran. Newt could only watch her go before he too vanished from the sight.

The next day, the town was buzzing over another murder. It was difficult to avoid as the body was on display in the city square. A herald was yelling at anyone who would listen and gathering quite a crowd. The message was decipherable enough. Credence had heard it enough growing up: _Magic is among us. We must arm ourselves._

Newt’s gaze landed on the men standing behind the herald, like a police force. _They got too close,_ Newt thought. _That's why he's dead._ He stayed until the herald yelled himself hoarse and then followed the men on their search through the city. Newt was better at noticing the signs, but the men were not inexperienced in tracking. He did what he could to lead them astray, remove a footprint here and replace it over there, but by evening he discovered it was all for naught.

They returned to their office, if office you could call it. Rudimental barred cells were installed in the front room, and when Newt climbed to see through the exterior window, the girl in the yellow dress was already in one of them.

His gaze jerked at a man yelling at him from one side of the alleyway. The muggle’s eyes landed on the wand in his hand and his voice leaped in pitch. _“SAHIR! SAHIR!”_

From both sides, Newt was tackled to the ground, his wand and case wrenched from him before he was manhandled inside. Thrown into a cell, he landed with his eyes on his case, which was set shakily on a table opposite him along with his wand. The men were clearly afraid of his things as they backed off of them and went into the back room out of sight. 

Newt looked at the girl, who was watching him from her prone place on the floor, too weak and hungry to rise. _“This is a bit unplanned,”_ Newt consented, _“but you’re not alone now.”_

She had not been alone at all, he discovered, as a man was dragged unconscious from that back room and deposited in the cell on her other side. A man who was clearly the leader saw Newt and rapidly spoke with the others before he stormed to Newt’s door, _“Demon! They say they found you outside? Who were you trying to rescue?”_

Newt’s features went blank. _“I was just admiring your facilities.”_

The man unlocked his cell and punched Newt in the face, but the whole memory wavered like water. “Newt has spared us from this pain,” Albus explained, “although it does make the memory unclear.”

Their surroundings solidified once more as Newt delicately checked his cheek for damage. The men were gone. He eyed his case on the table. _“I have a runespoor egg ready to hatch and a fully grown female who does not bode well without dinner. I reckon they have forty-eight hours before they have a bigger problem on their hands than us.”_

The girl only blinked at him, her eyes slowly shutting with sleep.

The next morning they were given a slice of bread as part of a legal requirement. Newt hid his in his shirt until they were gone and passed it through the bars to the girl.

She looked at him oddly, like he was the strange one for not eating. He stood and inspected the cell around him. Crudely installed though it was, the doors were thoroughly locked and in place. He sighed but the girl reacted suddenly, pressing herself against his bars. He knelt beside her as she pointed to the other cell: the man had not woken up. Credence frowned and then understood. “She…doesn’t understand at all.”

“No,” Albus agreed quietly.

 _“Look at me,”_ Newt urged, carefully turning her chin. Tears stained her cheeks. Newt’s breath wavered. _“I’ve never done this before, so…I’m sorry.”_

His fingertips touched her temple as he whispered, _“Legilimens.”_

Credence looked around him as they were consumed in white. “What? What happened?”

“Newt couldn’t remember this part properly,” Albus explained. “Entering one’s mind is…excruciating to the uninitiated. That is why Queenie and other natural legilimens are extraordinary. Newt did his best to make it painless for her and therefore fainted, but not before managing to pull some bricks from their language barrier.”

_“Newt.”_

The cell was around them once more. Groggily, Newt sat up and meant to wipe his face but a hand held two of his fingers. She sat against their bars, holding his hand. Her eyes were not afraid anymore.

 _“Ah…I’m sorry,”_ he breathed. She was silent but as he joined her against their partition he heard the crinkle of paper as she pulled a folded paper from her dress. It was old but glossy, from a magazine. She let go of his hand to unfold it and pointed at it: a photograph of a lake in a snowy valley.

 _“Snow,”_ he said.

 _“S…Sn-snow?”_ she tried.

He smiled with a nod. _“Snow...Nieve.”_

He waved his hand, and from the ceiling drifted white flakes. They landed on her cheeks, which gave her pause before she giggled against the tiny needles of cold on her skin. Her front teeth were large but straight, and she was missing one of her bottom teeth.

“If he can do that…why doesn’t he use his magic to get them out?” Credence wondered.

“Because it hasn’t occurred to him,” Albus said. “Or because he fears she will run and he will never see her again if he gets them out, I do not know. I did not ask. This memory was difficult enough to get out of him. He holds it very preciously to his heart, but it was poisoning him. I needed to get it out of him.”

Credence’s head jerked around. “I heard you say he would only feel lighter, not that it was gone.”

“I did not lie,” Albus assured. “But some things are held so tightly within us that we cannot see what it is until it is out.”

His features relaxed. “Like a pearl.”

“Just so,” Albus nodded. “I knew something was dreadfully wrong the moment you two arrived at the gates.”

Credence looked at him again. Dumbledore smiled sadly. “You’ve seen a patronus, haven’t you?”

He nodded, “Theseus and Queenie cast them before.”

“Why?”

“Theseus used his to get Newt from the forest and Queenie used hers to scare Peeves away.”

“Theseus used his as a message. In the absence of danger, that is what a patronus usually is: a message. A summons. Newt cast lightning into the sky instead of his patronus.”

Credence hesitated but asked, “What does that mean?”

Albus inhaled before he said without looking at him, “It means he cannot cast a patronus.”

As if this was answer enough, he walked forward into the next part of the memory. Newt had his arms through the bars, drawing things on the girl’s palms with a pen from his pocket, making her giggle against the tingling touch—

The door swung wide as the men returned, and one look at Newt had them wrenching his cell door open. Credence’s wrists hurt as Newt’s arms were yanked through the bars, dropping the pen. He was dragged out of the cell and thrown against the wall next to the table. One man kicked him, and then another, but Credence only knew this from the sounds of Newt’s voice as the memory clouded once more—

It darkened, and then cleared, revealing the darkness not to be unconsciousness, but a small obscurus crashing through the iron bars and latching onto the nearest assailant. He screamed but only briefly, and then their leader was next, clawing at his face and screaming like someone decades less than his age. The third man ran from the place entirely, stumbling right into a shard of concrete sticking out of the ground outside and knocking himself out cold as Newt reached up for his wand on the table.

Inside the obscurus was a yellow dress, and as it fell, Newt caught her, but the black sand and tendrils were stuck like gooey spider’s legs to her front, stretched long into her mouth and eyes. Newt stabbed his wand into the obscurus and wrenched it off of her, but her jaws widened in a silent scream.

Newt’s eyes widened with madness and his wand began to glow like hot metal. Picking at the tendrils with his bare fingers, he sawed them off her, tearing at the parasite while his mouth moved but Credence could not hear him because Newt did not know what he was saying…and it was over too quickly.

The obscurus let go all at once, Newt lurching with the momentum of his pull until he cast a bubble around it before it could escape or vanish. He dropped his wand on her lap as he turned back to—

She stared at nothing.

Her head hung over his arm, her entire body frailer than ever and weightless in his arms… The sight of her head hanging as it was...it was somehow grotesque and wrong. Newt’s hand moved to right it, to support her head—

Her eyes lolled in their sockets, her lips moving just barely. Air sucked through Newt’s throat, his face contorting as his eyes darted over her, searching for any sign of life.

But what little light he saw was dimming. His hand was so large he could hold her head up and reach his thumb around to wipe the tears and salt stains from her cheek. _“I’m sorry…”_ he choked. _“I’m so sorry.”_

Her eyes barely found him. Her mouth moved but the only sound was a hush of air… _ewt._

His lips pressed together, the corners turning downward as his eyes overflowed, but with shattering clarity, he knew she was dead.

His eyes darted over her, staring as his shock and fear and anger spiraled inside him, engorging and raging until he...broke.

 _“Ah—ah!”_ he cried, looking up only to gaze back down. His small movements were tenfold in her frame, so emaciated and abandoned, she looked like she could have blown in the wind now.

The memory throbbed like the train station, only a hundredfold. The sobbing cracks and whines coming from Newt were foreign to Credence’s ear. Anguish and heartbreak as he gathered her body close to him, parts of his face too red while other areas were too pale as he cried in her hair, weeping with abandon against her chest.

Credence’s hand flew to his mouth, locking his voice shut as his own tears raced down his face. Newt’s body rocked as he held hers, rising onto his knees before he sat once more on his feet. His sobs somehow tried to form words but they were incoherent before he craned his neck for air. His eyes were bluer than ever as they found the light from the barred window.

Dumbledore turned and began walking. Credence did a double take at Newt but he and the memory were already far away, and the train tracks were already under his feet again. Credence shook his head. “I don’t want to see this.”

“There is but one more thing I would show you,” Albus promised. With a wave of his hand the memory moved to Newt dueling Grindelwald, who stood on the platform.

“I don’t want to see this,” Credence repeated. “He hurts Newt.”

“Not as much as he would have liked,” Albus said cryptically. “What do you see?”

“What do you _want_ me to see?” he countered impatiently as Newt blocked one of Grindelwald’s attacks.

“Look around you,” Albus ordered. “What do you see?”

“I don’t see anything!” he exclaimed. “Just Newt, me, and…” Albus stepped toward him as he finished, “Graves.”

“This is more than how Newt remembers it. This is how Newt lived in this very moment. All of these memories are so detailed because Newt is observant, his attention covers a wide area. The last memory shattered and tore because that is what happened to Newt's mind and heart. This one has just three people in it with some groundwork. Why do you think that is?"

Credence watched as every time his own body began to fade, Newt would look back at him at the risk of being vulnerable to attack. Again and again he checked to make sure Credence was still on the tracks with him. “He’s focused on me.”

“Yes,” Albus nodded. “Not the best at multitasking, unfortunately, but what else? You’re sensitive to magic, Credence, surely you see it.”

Credence looked at him, something Mr. Ollivander said echoing in his mind as he looked around before his own memory of this night made him blurt, “The shield—egg—thing. It wasn’t like his other spells. He—now."

Grindelwald cast electricity up the tracks as they whipped Newt up against the ceiling. A translucent roundness solidified around him, protecting him against the attack and as he fell back onto the tracks. But after two more blasts it vanished, and Credence grimaced against the sounds of pain as Newt’s body contorted with electricity. “Could you explain, already?”

“It’s old magic,” Albus obliged. _“Very_ old magic, which he received in Europe, but it is fragile here. The source of it was torn from Newt.”

“Torn?”

“I mean literally,” Albus eyed him as the pain in Newt’s back flared and Credence felt it like fire rippling over his own shoulder. The memory rushed forward to Newt propelling himself into the obscurus and finding Credence within…but around them was the protective egg…around both himself and Credence.

“I think this is enough.”

Credence abruptly landed against the back of his chair as Dumbledore stood from his own. “Wait! His dragons?” Credence exclaimed. “His dragons gave him old magic? Why was the egg around me? I haven’t met any dragons.”

Dumbledore rotated on the ball of his foot. “Ah, yes, the last inquiry. Why Newt came back here for you. Why did such old magic envelope you as well. _Why does his wand work for you._ The answer is romantically simple: Newt is thoroughly and hopelessly in love with you.”

Credence’s face went blank. “What?” he blurted.

Albus tipped his head to the side. “Well, I can’t verify whether it is romantic or not, but he does feel a great deal for you. He might need some convincing of it as well.”

A strange mirth bubbled up Credence’s throat. “What are you—that can’t be right. Men don’t—”

“I assure you they do.”

“But—”

“They. Do. Credence,” Albus silenced. “Really, has it never occurred to you that you might love him too?”

Credence paled. “I…”

“Hm?” Albus smirked expectantly.

“I…” he huffed dubiously. “Of course I never thought…Men really…?”

Albus nodded. “Oh yes. Muggles are far from discovering the homosexual population but wizards. Are not.”

Credence stared at him. _Newt…and me?_

His heart flopped so high in his chest he had trouble breathing. Dumbledore chuckled, “It is a bright new world. I wish you all the best, in whatever direction you take. Now, I’ll be needing your memories.”

His heart thudded in his chest. “You’re kidding.”

“Oh I’m rarely funny,” Albus remarked. “That’s why most people think I’m mad.”

“I…” Credence began incredulously and then swallowed. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Albus asked mildly.

“Because,” Credence breathed for time, but even as he exhaled he only had one response. “Because he…he made me feel things.”

“Gellert charmed you,” Albus summarized.

Credence recoiled, “Why do you call him by his first name?”

This finally gave the man pause. It was another moment before Dumbledore said, “Because I know him on a first name basis. As I said: great minds steal. And he learned how to charm from me. He would have taken much more—”

He stopped, his eyes leaving Credence. He shook his head gently. “This war, Credence…it is between he and I. The rest of the world is collateral damage. He and I once shared an opinion but…I was wrong. It’s the only time I have ever been detrimentally wrong, and…it nearly ruined me. My brother takes great pride in reminding me of that.”

Credence blinked. “Abe from the pub?"

Albus smiled. “Aberforth. I knew you recognized me from him. It’s the eyes. We have our mother’s eyes. He’s grown that ridiculous beard to hide how further related we are.” He rubbed his own jaw. “I’ve half a mind to do the same to spite him.”

Credence began to laugh but stopped. “But…if he doesn’t like you…then why is he here?”

Albus nodded. “Why indeed. He completely hates me. It was a wonder he let me convince him to give Newt a place to stay since he hasn’t been allowed on school grounds since he was a student.”

Credence leaned forward on his seat, overwhelmed by the weight of information. “Wh-What? Newt isn’t allowed—” His face fell into his hand. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“Clearly we all have our moments. Even me,” Albus added like a grunt. “But we stand back up, with our family or without them.”

“Your brother is with you,” Credence said.

“That’s family,” Albus smirked. “Even when you hate one another…you’re with one another. Which reminds me. Before those three break down the door..."

He opened the door of the office. Tina and her sister with Jacob lurched as if they had put their entire weight against it.

“He’s in France!” Queenie piped without introduction. “He’s quick to disappear but he’s in France right now.”

“Well done,” Albus smiled. To Credence he continued, “Newt has beseeched Theseus to find the dragon keepers who handled his dragons after he was taken from them, and he’s had some success.”

Albus revealed a folded piece of paper between his fingers. Credence blinked. “He gave you the letter?”

“No, I pinched it last night and made a copy for myself while I was giving him a list of meaningless errands to run. I cannot guarantee how long he will remain in France, but that should have bought you some time. So you lot best get a move on.”

Tina huffed a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Oh yes. I gave him quite a list and I'd still only give you two days before Newt completely vanishes from anyone he doesn't want following him. Credence, one more thing."

Albus went to a writing desk against the wall. From a drawer he withdrew a large white envelope, which he handed to Credence. “It’s midnight. Happy birthday.”

Credence did not readily reach for it. “How did you know my—”

“Newt said it before he left,” Albus finished. “I’m an expert eavesdropper.”

Turning it over, the return address read:

_Chieftess Aiyana, Headmistress of Ilvermorny_

_Office of Headmistress, Second Floor, East Wing_

_Mount Greylock, Massachusetts_

“She and President Picquery have been busy,” Albus said when Credence looked up at him. “The president’s experience with you has driven her to improve the process in which magical children are found and enrolled into school. She has been writing to me for information regarding how Hogwarts finds our students. They also have access to two prominent sets of magical records: Ilvermorny’s students, and the magical government’s various departments. Open it.”

“You haven’t opened it?”

“This one was addressed to you,” Albus explained. “Besides, I already know what is in it.”

He tore into it and fumbled as one of the contents was smaller than the other papers: a photograph of a teenage girl. “Who is this?

Albus exhaled, “Such a rush. Read the contents. I shan’t spoil it.”

Credence guessed the papers were government documents but the other was a letter written in blue ink.

_Hello Credence,_

_I hope this finds you well, although I advised Albus to give it to you during a time you were not. I do dislike being right most occasions but I meant what I said in how Ilvermorny would be honored to have you if I were not powerless otherwise. I think as highly of you as all of my students, which is why I have done some digging with the recruitment of Seraphina during her holiday with me._

Credence looked up, “She told me she wasn’t a legilimens.”

Dumbledore laughed, “Chieftess Aiyana is not a legilimens. She is a seer. A prophet. Continue.”

Tina shot Queenie a look as Credence’s jaw dropped but he picked it back up to read:

_The thing about adoption, you see, is it requires paperwork. In order for the Barebone orphanage to take in so many children without question is that it had to be somewhat legal, which does wonders for paperwork, and you are right at the bottom of the pile since you were one of the first ones adopted._

_If you do not want such information, then read no further and I wish you all the best. It is yours to do with as you see fit._

_Happy birthday, Credence._

_Aiyana_

Credence reread the letter and moved to the other documents. The first was an adoption paper regarding him and his sister, Chastity… _Chastity Barebone. Birth father: John Bricksham. Birth mother: Clara Mone._

His eyes widened as he found his name. _Credence Barebone. Birth father: unknown. Birth mother: Yuki Stein. Died in childbirth._

The pages rustled loudly in his ears as he looked at the next document: an immigration document from Ellis Island. On it was a circled married couple’s name, Minoko and Eric Stein with their child Yuki Stein.

Credence picked up Aiyana’s letter once more. _P.S. Your grandparents are a Jewish entrepreneurial wizard who visited Japan when its doors opened to the world. Instead of riches, he found his life partner, a witch from a modest family, who moved back with him and further to New York. The picture is the only one we could find of their daughter, Yuki, during her time at Ilvermorny. But I knew her. She was gifted in charms and playing the gottan. I suspect she met your father soon after leaving us. I am sorry I cannot give you any information about him._

Tina and Queenie came up behind him as he looked at the photograph once more. It was black and white but she blinked back at him. After a moment of realizing the camera was on her, she smiled shyly, and then fully.

“She was pretty,” Queenie purred.

“She was,” Tina agreed. “You smile like her. So…you could be Credence Stein…if you wanted. Just…knock the Gold off…”

But he shook his head and peeked up at them, smiling. “I like the Gold.”

Queenie squealed with glee as her arms wrapped around him from behind. Albus chuckled while Credence stood, his legs shaky from a tumultuous evening. Looking up at Tina, she tilted her head and opened her arms. He stepped into them and hugged her back.

“It’s our turn to catch us a Newt, huh?” she said as they parted.

“Almost,” Albus concurred. “You’ll have to do some packing and unpacking before you go.”

“Pack?” Tina said the same time Queenie wondered, “Unpack?”

“Credence has quite a number of gifts to sort through. That’s what happens when you tangle with Scamanders and one of them leaks it’s your birthday.” He winked and nodded in the direction. “Under your bed in there.”

“Gifts?” Credence repeated.

“And you will do some _unpacking_ before you leave,” Albus finished with a tap to his own temple before he ushered them into their chambers.

Credence ascended the wonky spiral of a staircase to the bed he had used but once while being here and looked under it. A single large parcel was there, wrapped in crisp white paper. Carefully extracting it and setting it on the bed, Credence tore open the paper to reveal a glistening auburn leather case, not unlike Newt’s but redder and with golden caps on the corners.

 _Gifts?_ he wondered.

Opening the case, he revealed the top of a latter leading into the case but bulging out of it were several boxes and items wrapped in paper underneath a note:

_I’m sorry, Credence. You almost found them and I wanted these to be a surprise. Happy birthday. –Newt_

Lifting the note, one by one he set the gifts on the bed around the case until only the case was left. He bent over to look within, until he was halfway inside. Newt had enlarged the innards to be a spacious room for him. Climbing inside, he saw in the center of the floor was a circular fire pit full of indigo and violet flames, beside which were his futon and various potted plants in the room. Some of them, though, were new. In two of them were labels reading, _Shrivel fig._ And next to them was a pot of white flowers gently glowing in the dim light, labeled _Molly._

On a shelf in the corner were Newt’s schoolbooks, which Credence noticed now were levels one through five. On another shelf were various jars and pots of any medical thing he could ever need. Seeing copper flecks in one of the jars, he picked it up and read, _Powdered Runespoor Eggshell._ The label was folded paper which opened to Newt’s handwriting outlining its various healing uses.

Credence looked around the case and would have stayed in here longer if Jacob hadn’t called down, “You gonna open these or what? We’ve got some things for ya too, ya know.”

Ascending the ladder, Credence sat on the bed and opened things as he reached for them. Tearing off the brown paper from one box, this only revealed the box to be further wrapped in shining paper with designs of constellations all over it. He paused to pull on the paper from another gift: red wrapping underneath. “Is this how presents are normally wrapped?”

“No,” Tina laughed. “Newt went the extra mile to keep these a surprise."

Finishing with the box in his hands, Credence revealed a small three-layered cake that smelled of almonds. “That’s from me and Claude,” Jacob grinned. “He said you love the croissants, so we put the paste in the layers of the cake. I’ll go ahead an’tell ya: it’s delicious.”

Credence smiled at him. “Thank you, Jacob.”

“No problem, it’s my specialty,” Jacob said, taking the box from him so Tina could hand him another.

“Newt gave me this one for safekeeping,” she said. _“‘The book I want to publish,’_ is what he said.”

Credence pulled the paper off to reveal a hand-sewn volume. In the cover was encased a moving photograph of Frank flying while lightning danced around him. The spine creaked gently when he opened it: and every page was an illustration. All of Newt’s doodles, drawings, and diagrams of his creatures in one place, the text intricately lined around the drawings. In the center was a double-page spread of the sweeping evil entirely fanned out. Every page was a work of art.

“What about the draft Mr. Worme is waiting for?” he asked.

“Oh he has it,” Tina informed. “Newt finished it the day after we arrived, I think, and he got a letter from his publisher saying it was good. It will be published this summer.”

Two more boxes were another wand holster and black robe that glinted red in the light from Queenie. Then a third had a large dark green sweater that was the softest thing he had ever touched. “I’ll get colors on you one way or another,” she grinned.

He unwrapped a flat box which had its lid thrown off by an origami bird. It fluttered around his head as he read the note in the box: _Don’t unfold me unless you want boring and untrue_ Daily Prophet _articles. Happy birthday, Credence. –Theseus._

Then the last box opened to a note from Charlotte. _Theseus and I reinforced Newt’s protective charms on your case. It can survive a bomb blast of muggle and magical proportions._

But upon removing the note, was a frame, in which rested a golden cog hooked to the satin under it. Written on another small piece of paper within were the words, _If you are ever in danger, I will know. Happy birthday, love. –C Scamander._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's all the sorta stuff Newt should tell you about."  
> Enter Albus-no-chill-Dumbledore: "Credence get your shit together, he was expelled and you're gonna bang. Any questions?"
> 
> J'ai du temps = I have time  
> Où es-tu = where are you  
> Seher/sihr = magic/witchcraft  
> Sahir = magician  
> Ana asif = I'm sorry  
> Lathith = delicious
> 
> I'm just trying to embarrass myself in as many languages as I can. u_u
> 
> To the person who bought me a coffee, you're the shiningest star in the biggest galaxy. Much good. Very wow, you <333


	20. Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence prepares to leave Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Um. I got carried away with Hogwarts lore with this one, but it's okay because Dumbledore is as sassy as ever.

“You’re dwelling.”

Credence followed Albus up the stairs. “But can’t you teach me something before I—”

Albus rotated, pinning Credence in place with the pad of a finger to his forehead. “You’re a dweller.”

Credence huffed. “That’s a no, then.”

Albus continued up the stairs. “I’ve given you the tools not to dwell. It is not my fault you’re a stubborn student. Those are so often the best, though,” he added with a strange note of glee. “You don’t need me to teach you anything regarding spells or incantation or wand movement—particularly since you are in need of one of those.”

“You said I won’t need a wand eventually,” Credence reminded him. “Can’t you teach me how to go without one?”

Albus’s response was a strong inhalation through his nose as he paused on a landing. He slowly turned back to him. “It’s wondrous, isn’t it? What you can do when…you just…breathe.”

Morning light shot through the window, reflecting off every speck of dirt and dust Albus commanded into the air, like thousands of diamonds hovering around them. Credence gazed in wonder before his expression flattened. “You’re showing off.”

“Yes. I am a showoff. That’s what we do. Teaching is the ideal profession for it,” he remarked, turning onto the next flight of stairs. The diamonds dimmed back into dust and drifted back to the floor. He strode down the corridor toward the painting blocking the teachers’ dormitory. “Tell me, how does Newt instruct you to use your magic?” he asked as the frame swung wide for them.

“He says I need to want it. That if I am focused and want it enough, that my magic will do the rest.”

“That sounds about right,” Albus said, “although how much can you want something?”

Albus smoothly spun around, stopping Credence in his tracks. “Desert.”

“What?”

“Sudan. Remember? It was hot, and so dry it pulled the sweat from your skin. The dirt stuck to your face. Do you remember that?”

“Yes?” Credence answered dubiously. “Why are we talking about this?”

“I hear New York invites a certain repugnance in the summer,” Albus continued. “Dry or humid?”

“Humid. We’re on the water,” Credence uttered bluntly.

“Do your clothes stick to your skin?”

“Of course.”

“Beads of sweat slipping under the fabric? A certain…grease on your hands and face?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever gone for a swim then?”

“No. I can’t swim.”

“Hm. Then you will resort to aguamenti for refreshment? Say it.”

“Why?”

“Humour me.”

“But you’re not funny.”

“I might be. It’s summer. You’re in New York. In all those dreadful layers. Say it.”

Credence had no idea where this was going but was impatient to get there. _“Aguamenti.”_

A great metallic pop was heard behind Albus along with a chain reaction of crashes in the professors’ washroom. Water could be heard spraying as it began to pool on the corridor floor. “Hm,” was all Albus remarked.

He strolled into his office, leaving Credence staring at the growing puddle. “Uh—Aren’t you going to clean or do something about that?”

“Haven’t the time,” he chimed, thoroughly ignoring the destruction to the bathroom. Credence hesitated but joined him in the room as he continued, “There is an unwieldy element to your magic, Credence, and a wand is your shortcut to getting around it. Do you still have your wand core?”

“Yes.”

“Good, however we mustn’t rest on our laurels.”

“What laurels?” Credence wondered skeptically.

Albus came from the cabinet he had opened. Setting the pensieve on the table, he seamlessly turned back to Credence. _“This_ is your wand,” he said with a finger to Credence’s skull. His hand moved so his fingertips pressed into Credence’s chest. “This is your magic. When _this_ is unsteady," he said once more touching his head, "so is your power. However when your mind is focused, it becomes a channel for your magic, as a wand is. You are allowed to feel anything you want, but we mustn’t let our minds atrophy. When did you meet the man you knew as Percival Graves?”

Credence could not say he was surprised by the conversation change but his heart still dipped lower in his chest. “Um…I think after Tina attacked the Second Salemers.”

“You think?” Albus reiterated.

“There’s a hole in my memory since the wizards obliviated us, but he—”

“Don’t tell me, show me. Details can get lost or altered just between the space from your mind to your mouth. All you need to do is find the moment in your mental timeline, and I will do the rest.”

“That was months ago,” Credence worried.

“I can take you back there,” Albus soothed, “but I need you to trust me and to be patient with me.”

Credence sighed, “You’re talking about breathing again, aren’t you?”

He smirked. “I’ll take you through a proper meditation.”

“You don’t just have a relaxation potion to make this easier?”

It was Albus’s turn to sigh. “Magic is more than instant gratification, and potions or legilimency coercion would be both painful for you, but also muddle the memories. Though my methods are slower, they are safer, kinder, and overall better. Select a cushion, and we will begin.”

An ornate rug moved from the wall, unrolling onto the floor along with several square cushions plopping into place. Credence sat on a turquoise one with golden designs and Albus sat opposite him. “Close your eyes.”

Credence decidedly didn’t.

Albus eyed him kindly. “Trust works both ways,” and he closed his eyes.

There was immediately a certain comfort between them, in his being able to look upon Albus freely. He was a handsome man, and that nose had definitely been broken before, but the overall relaxation of his features struck Credence the most. The man’s control over himself; he made it look simple.

Credence glanced at Fawkes twittering softly to himself, perfectly comfortable. After another moment, he closed his eyes. He peeked when Albus said, “Newt taught you how to breathe.”

His lashes shuttered closed. “Yes.”

“Then do so.”

It took a couple of tries but Credence felt his inhalation touch his lower lungs—

“Slowly,” Albus soothed. Credence’s eyes flashed open but Albus’s were still closed. “You’re in no hurry. I told Newt I wanted powdered diamond slug and slime from a swamp cat. It will take him some time to figure out these things don’t exist.”

Credence could not help but laugh, and found this relaxed him. His lashes fell as his inhalations came slowly, easily lethargic. “Listen to Fawkes sing,” Albus instructed gently. “Listen to his feathers rustle when he stops to clean a wing. The swish of his tail.”

Credence heard it: the shake of the bird’s head and the feathers rattling softly because of it, the shift of his talons on the metal rod on which he rested. “Expand your range of hearing: the wind in the windows, the voices of students on the grounds.”

Credence had to focus to hear them, but there was a faint whistle in the window above in the loft, and girls were laughing faintly in the distance. “Now bring your hearing back to this room. Find Fawkes.”

He did. The phoenix’s song was quiet with sleep but the soft sounds were still in the air. “Bring it here. To this carpet. Hear the press of the cushion when your weight shifts. The delicate scraping of your raiment on your skin. Find your heartbeat. Maybe you hear it or maybe you don’t, but feel it. Feel it in your chest. It is always moving, pushing blood in every millimeter of your body. Listen to it.”

Once he found it, it was remarkably present in his chest. His heart felt large and strong yet vulnerable at having been found. The longer he listened, the more he found: the quiet and serene surges of blood to his fingertips, the throb in his ear canals, and the buoyant rocking of his torso from nothing but the organ ruling his chest.

“Smell is the strongest memory sensor,” Albus said, almost whispering. “When you recall New York, what do you smell?”

Credence’s mind landed in the Goldsteins' apartment. “Sugar,” he murmured and then he found other places. “Pond scum…tar and rubber…perfume and garbage.”

“Your favourite place,” Albus guided. “Tell me about it.”

“Newt’s case,” Credence said without thinking.

He could hear Albus’s smile. “If you were to give Newt a tour of New York, where would you go?”

He needed to think about it. Manhattan had so many nooks and crannies… “Brooklyn Bridge. He’s always looking at the sky. That’s a good place to do it.”

“Where would you go if it’s just you?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. I used to pick avenues to hand out Salemer flyers…now I…don’t really choose. I only walk.”

“Did you have an avenue of choice?”

“Fifth,” he answered easily. “It’s a long street with Central Park on one side, so…if wealthy people ran me off I had somewhere to go.”

“The park,” Albus said. “Tell me about it.”

Credence’s head shook slightly. “It’s…big? And rightly named. New York has a lot of parks…”

“But he found you in Central Park,” Albus targeted. “What season was it?”

“Um-Autumn, no. Late summer. The evening was still warm.”

“How did it feel? The air on your skin.”

“Not as humid as usual,” Credence remembered. “It had rained, so the ponds didn’t smell bad.”

“What did you smell instead?”

It took Credence a moment to find it, as he had only smelt it once. “Smoke. Sweet…sort of smoke, but it was from a hand rolled cigarette…"

 _Good evening, Credence,_ he had heard.

Credence remembered feeling startled. No one had ever asked for his name so he never gave it out. Pale smoke billowed from the man’s mouth as he kept his distance from Credence. At least in the beginning.

 _“It exists. Magic. All you dreamed and more,”_ the man said without preamble.

 _“W-What?”_ he had stammered. He startled several steps back when the man’s cigarette combusted in flames for demonstration. The glowing embers floated over the pond as he exhaled his last drag.

And that was all Credence had needed. As the man he thought was Percival Graves approached him and told him things, Credence realized how naïve he had been. How desperate for validation he had been so he was blind to the rather weak story Grindelwald fed him.

 _“I’d like you to help me, Credence,”_ he had purred. _“To find someone. Someone very special, like you. My magic has given me visions and I see a young child of immense power. Power too dangerous to leave them alone. I need to find them…and you’re going to help me.”_

“Visions?” Credence uttered aloud. “Is he a seer too?”

“No,” Dumbledore said gently. “Thankfully just a liar.”

“I made things easy for him,” he murmured.

“Try not to think less of yourself and more of him. He learned how to be charming from me, remember, and charm is the highest form of trickery. Move along to the next one.”

“Next one?” Credence doubted. “I can’t remember each meeting we had. He always found me.”

“Do the best you can,” Albus soothed. “Did you ever wonder how he found you?”

“I asked once,” he admitted, “That was when he told me he was Percival Graves. He told me about magical government, even the building that doubled as a law firm and MACUSA office.”

The memories passed through his mind, pieces of a long conversation slowly received from a man who kept their interactions brief. Then he realized, “But an alley near MACUSA became a regular spot.”

“Mmm,” Albus pondered. “He must have been impatient.”

“My obscurus was more active in the end,” Credence considered.

“I do not mean this to be taken negatively, but you had your obscurus longer than he was with MACUSA. I believe you were a secondary task he picked up. Did he ever mention something to you outside of finding the obscurus?”

Credence searched his memories but he shook his head. “No. Never.”

“Anything, Credence. Did he ask you for anything extra? What other magic did he show you?”

“He healed my hand once, but he never drew his wand in front of me.”

“Your key moments with him, then. The clearest you’ve ever held him in your mind, find those moments.”

Credence did, although they were few and had already faded in the time he spent with the Goldsteins and Newt: the first time Graves had touched him, he moments he read Credence’s mind and expertly found what was bothering him, fooling Credence into feeling at ease since he did not need to speak.

“He has a habit of that,” Albus soothed quietly. “Silencing people. It is one of his tells.”

“Tells?”

“Hints. Habits. Little signs he gives away as to who he is. In Newt’s memory, the finger across his mouth to Tina was my giveaway. He is impatient enough to silence any contrary opinion. If nothing else, I would have you find these and remember them strongly.”

“Why?” Credence voiced. “Grindelwald is in prison. Isn’t he?”

The silence that answered him opened Credence’s eyes. The room had dimmed, not from anything over the windows…merely the calming of the magic in the air. Albus’s eyes slowly opened. “No. He isn’t.”

The room slowly brightened, Credence realizing he or both of them controlled the magical particles in the room. “Isn’t?”

Albus inhaled and sighed as if the next fact exhausted him. “Gellert Grindelwald has escaped magical capture innumerous times, and escaped prison on eight occasions. Three of which his holders were not even aware he had escaped until he was at large once more. I am afraid three will need to be adjusted to four.”

“How can you be sure? Why doesn’t the president know?”

“She does now,” he assured, “but a public statement will not be immediately made in order to maintain tranquility in the populace. However those who share his views and follow his orders are moving too quickly. Too easily. He must be among them. Newt was wrong only partially.”

“Newt? Wrong about what?” Credence pushed.

Albus’s eyes, blue like water, flicked up to him. “You were mugged, you said. Newt had suspicions regarding the man who approached you.”

Credence paled. “H-He thought…that was Grindelwald?”

“I have the memory,” Albus confirmed. “But it is not him. Gellert does have a flair for the theatrical but muggings in Knockturn Alley are too common and that man’s behaviours too contrary. Grindelwald would have no reason to reach into your breast pocket unless…”

Those blue eyes locking on Credence were like lightning striking him. “Did he ever give you anything?”

Credence blinked, realizing, “Yes. A pendant.”

“Remember it,” Albus ordered. Credence’s jaw dropped before it snapped shut and he closed his eyes. The alley was easy enough to return to considering the fright Graves had given him when he flew into it impatiently.

 _“Credence. Have you found the child?”_ he had demanded. Credence remembered holding out his hand shakily before Graves was closer than ever, clasping something behind his nape. A long black thread on which hung a silver triangle.

“Was this the last time you saw him? Apart from while you were an obscurus?”

“Yes—no. I used it once,” he corrected.

“To alert him when you found what he wanted,” Albus finished. “That’s why he wants it back. Like port keys, message connections like this can be tracked between the sender and receiver. Do you still have it?”

Credence shook his head. “I don’t think so. It would’ve been with my old clothes but Queenie gave me new ones. I haven’t seen those since.”

“They would not have discarded them without your permission,” Albus knew. “They are somewhere. Take care when searching, you will not want to touch it.”

“Do you mean he knows where I am?" he exclaimed raggedly. "All the time?”

“With the connection he has crafted, no, only when you touch it. So you must have touched it recently without realizing it. He made a point of trying to get it before you came to me. Newt was clever and kept you in places you were entirely safe and out of his reach.”

Credence felt the air slowly sigh out of his lungs at the resurgence of Newt in his memories, his desperate want to protect him. But then Credence frowned. “When would I have accidentally touched it?”

“It may not have been you. What were you doing in Diagon Alley?”

Credence shrugged. “Getting a wand, my robes…and Newt visited his publisher. That’s when I wandered off.”

“This couldn’t have been the only time you were separated,” Albus considered. “He had to have gotten your birthday present at some point. If you have not seen your previous garments he may very well have moved them into that case when he got it.”

Credence looked up to see Albus pulling his own silvery, vaporous thread from his temple and letting it fall into the pensieve he had moved to his lap. Without further ado he stood in one movement. “Very good. Thank you, Credence. Are you packed?”

He blinked. “I…never really unpacked. Are we done? That’s it?”

Albus’s brows lifted. “Well I told you it wouldn’t be like pulling teeth. Come in.” The door opened and in swept Jacob and the Goldsteins.

Credence sputtered, “But shouldn’t I go look for—”

“No. In your own time. Now you need to get going. Just be sure not to touch it, and sleep in your case or Newt’s, even if you stay at an inn. There is a floo network between the school and an ally you may use.”

Credence’s mouth fell open, wanting to ask so many things. Tina beat him to it. “So much for studying at Hogwarts, huh?”

Albus closed the cabinet of his pensieve and turned back around. “Oh? Have I disappointed?”

Tina huffed a laugh. “It’s just Newt was dead set on you becoming Credence’s professor.”

Albus absorbed this and slid his hands into his pockets, relaxed. “I’ve seen and I’ve heard and I fail to understand what you’re coming to me for. You say you’d like a mentor for dear Credence while he already has one. Three, in fact, with a jolly fourth to boot.”

He nodded to Jacob, who smiled at the acknowledgement. Albus looked at Credence and seemed to reach some conclusion within himself as he strolled out of the room. “Yes, I can do very little. I am out numbered, after all. And who am I to contest the master of so many magical creatures?”

Something flashed in Credence’s thoughts and he rushed to follow him. “But, sir…what if…he _does_ need convincing, like you said?”

“Hm?” Albus asked him to elaborate.

“What if,” he took a breath, “what if he doesn’t want me…as something else? If I’m still another one of his creatures?”

Albus turned to see him. “Well to be frank, I don’t see the harm in that whatsoever. You have seen first hand how he is with people. He is better with his creatures, and he holds them most dearly to his soul. That would be your place, wouldn’t it?”

He smiled, and continued out of the teacher’s dormitory, Credence on his heels. “But what—”

“You’re dwelling,” Albus crooned.

“But what if he doesn’t want me?” Credence blurted. “At all? He might not want to see me.”

To his utter amazement, Dumbledore guffawed. “Who is funny now? I would wager your tent hasn’t moved an inch inside that case.”

Credence did not bother asking if he had been inside Newt’s case and instead ventured, “About the list you gave him…how do you know he’ll stay in France until we get there? For you, he would travel the world to find what you needed.”

Albus’s movements slowed, and then stopped as he rotated. “No he would not. What he wants is in Europe. He will not stray from them again.”

“The dragons?” Jacob exclaimed. Credence realized the others were around them.

“Indeed,” he confirmed.

Jacob beamed, “We’re gonna see dragons!”

“Where are we going?” Tina interrupted.

“The headmaster’s office,” Albus informed as he took them up a flight of steps to a new corridor. “His is the only fireplace equipped with a floo network. You will conveniently arrive at Garrick Ollivander’s wand shop. He is expecting you. You may then take a ferry to Paris. You will find yourself in France before the day’s end.”

“Headmaster,” she repeated. _“Where is_ the headmaster? You can just walk into his office and use his fireplace?”

“Professor Dippet is currently away on Hogwarts business,” Albus chimed innocently. “Could be gone for months. I didn’t know how long you’d be.”

The four of them exchanged open-mouthed stares before she blurted. “That’s very Slytherin of you.”

“Oh on the contrary, I hail from Gryffindor House,” Albus said as they arrived at a stone gargoyle as tall as himself. _“Borachio.”_

The gargoyle lifted its head and stepped aside. Beside it, a spiraling staircase began to coil up the cylindrical walls. “Borachio?” Queenie repeated.

Albus supplied, “Armando was born in Italy though he is English. He does like his wine. A golden griffin would look far better here, though.”

The gargoyle’s head turned toward him.

“Uh, a little more on borachio, please?” Jacob requested.

Dumbledore conceded, “Borachio is a seventeenth century term for the leather made into wineskins. However colloquially it referred to drunkards. That’s simply the way Armando’s humour works. His previous password was ‘chirping-merry,’ or the joviality of conversation on good liquor.”

“How old is he?” Tina realized.

“Well he was born in the sixteen-thirties,” Albus said like it was obvious.

Jacob barked, “HA!” to which Albus merely chuckled and stepped onto the stairs.

Tina touched Credence’s arm as she told them, “Queenie and I will get our stuff. Go on ahead.”

The headmaster’s room was similarly tall and circular as Albus’s but of course differently decorated. It was Spartan compared to Dumbledore’s trinkets, colours, and Fawkes’ songs filling his apartments. The only decorations were the dozens of portraits in all sizes of previous headmasters hanging from the walls. In the headmaster’s seat behind the massive gilded table was the friar ghost reading whatever book had been left open.

“Good morrow, Albus!”

“Good morning, Pascal. Not interrupting, are we?”

“Not at all! Oh, but where is Newt?” he asked, drifting through the table to get a better look around them.

“He’s left ahead of our guests.”

The man’s face fell. “Oh. Again? Surely he’s innocent again?”

“He’s not convicted of any crimes,” Albus assured.

Credence frowned. “You knew he was innocent?”

“Oh yes,” the ghost crooned. “Such a loudness on that day of course drew several of us.”

“Ghosts are not called on in a wizard trial as witnesses,” Albus said as he looked among the various containers on the mantle for the floo powder.

“We cannot leave our residence to try,” the fat friar moaned. “Not that most would. Death does tarnish one’s moral responsibilities.”

“Thank you, friar,” Albus finished.

“My regards to Newton, yes?” he requested as he floated out of the office.

“I think I can be sure I wouldn’t want to be a ghost after I died,” Jacob commented.

“I agree,” Albus voiced. “A static existence is a boring one. Now then, are you—oh.”

He paused at seeing Credence looking up at a haggard hat on a high shelf. It was out of place among the lack of Dippet’s decorations and strangely like the old depictions of witches Credence had seen in illustrations. He had not thought people with magic actually wore such things.

Albus smirked, “You asked about it once.”

Credence looked at him. “What?”

“If I had something like a horned serpent to read your thoughts. You may not be my student officially, but they are sorted into houses by wearing the Sorting Hat, and it is not nearly as precarious. Did you want to give it a go?”

“Do we have time?” he wondered.

“Might as well take another moment while the Goldsteins get your things. Sorting Hat, what say you?”

 _“Hmmmmm,”_ they heard, and then Credence’s eyes nearly fell out of his head as he watched the stitches in the old leather open for a mouth to speak. _“So rarely do I sit upon a head. A fresh mind for conversation is welcome by I.”_

Credence glanced at Jacob gaping up at it. “Sure,” he awed. “Try it on.”

“You’re the one who’s curious,” he accused.

“I made you do it at Ilvermorny,” Jacob reminded. “Go on, how often do you get to have a talking hat on your head?”

 _“Once and one time only,”_ the hat answered itself. _“For I am the Sorting Hat, and only the Sorting Hat is I.”_

“You may want to sit down in case there is a hat stall,” Dumbledore said as he brought the hat down from the shelf. “But it does not often take longer than five minutes to choose a house.”

Credence sat upon the stool provided him and soon felt the surprisingly soft leather slide over his eyes. He could not imagine such a large hat on an eleven year old’s head—

 _That would be Godric’s fault,_ he heard inside his head. _Off dear Rowena’s head, I was leant, and then the lion’s mane stretched me beyond repair. Now then:_

_In Gryffindor House dwell_

_The gallant of heart and noble spirit,_

_But more than utmost,_

_Is the ability to prove it._

_There in fine Hufflepuff_

_Thrive the force of spirit,_

_For golden are their hearts_

_And minds of wit and merit._

_Which brings us to sapphire Ravenclaw,_

_Those whose minds equal the talon, the claw._

_Last but not least is Slytherin merit,_

_Which is equal of the rest with an added devious note you may inherit._

“Um,” Credence blurted.

_I sit on a shelf over three hundred days a year and I am older than your bloodline. I cannot claim all my songs to be worth hearing but give me your ears, Credence, for I am leather worth wearing._

_You know my name?_ Credence thought unconsciously.

_I know your name and more. It is all here in your head. I can sing more for every house, if you like, for every house is noble and fair. It is the person who defines how they wield who they are. I knew every founder, though I originally sat upon Rowena’s head. Most think she favoured a crown of jewel and silver, but wisdom did not favour impracticality. So upon her umber head I rested, and into me she poured her power until I spoke. A legilimens, she was, though the word did not exist, and it was her madness I absorbed, her ability, her mantle... until I was born, and her head silenced to peace._

_A legilimens…_ Credence absorbed. _She was the smart one, right?_

_Intelligence, of course. Wisdom to share. But to call her the only one would be a fallacy in great err. There is brilliance in bravery, of which Godric favoured most, just as there is bravery in kindness, which Helga Hufflepuff adored greatest of all. Young Salazar was the one whom Rowena chose for her chess duels, just as Godric employed Salazar for their wizarding duels._

_Ah. Newton Scamander. Yes, I did place him in Hufflepuff._

Credence sat very still.

_Would you be a Hufflepuff, you are wondering. Hm. Allow me to say, as it was not only Rowena whose head I sat, I listened and I heard the conversations with the other three._

_Helga Hufflepuff was kind, her wit of utmost charm, but her fault was in her trust, which she spread like spring pollen. Salazar Slytherin, handsome and winsome in his prime, turned bitterer and sour as the years aged him. He ought to have remained Rowena’s equal in intelligence and cunning, but he left charismatic youth behind in favour of hubris, gambling all to be left lonely to die._

_All that remains is Godric, the sweet roguish Gryffindor. Brutish and capable of cruelty, he was, but unlike liberal Hufflepuff and exclusive Slytherin, his trust was sharp like Rowena’s: well guarded and well judged—but generous. A gentle giant he could be as well as a titan of a king, but the warrior’s life he chose, not unlike your amethyst wampus. Strong he was alone, but seclusion was not the goal. Together his pack of four was unstoppable, and Slytherin’s descent hurt none so much as the one._

_And so it is not Helga’s house I would choose for you, but Salazar’s._

The sudden silence in his head was loud. Slytherin House reverberated between his ears. Credence’s lips parted. _Because…of what I did to Newt?_

 _Not at all,_ the hat said on a light note. _People both choose and refuse Slytherin because of Salazar’s reputation for high expectations in skill, prowess, and hereditary segregation, but I witnessed the sadness among the other three as his prejudices took root. Herein lies his tragedy, for old man Slytherin is the one who is remembered. His students are prized for their ambition while his was his undoing. It was not enough that he was one of the best in his age or that he had the respect and love of the few who equaled or bested him. No, Slytherin is set apart for his faults._

_Slytherin before this time is to be most revered. The man who charmed with only a look and could make Rowena laugh for hours. The one who could check Godric’s wrath with his own legilimency skill. With his aid Helga established the Hogwarts kitchens as home of house elves and with his practice Godric honed himself into one of history’s finest duelists._

_His final deeds cannot be excused by his former kindnesses but to ignore them entirely would discredit those of his house. Merlin himself was pupil and comrade to him before he went on to make himself the most famous wizard in history. And he did not agree with Salazar’s prejudices. Being in Slytherin is not meant to suppress you with his judgments. It is meant to raise you as high as he raised others._

_That is his legacy, and you are welcome to it if you choose._

_I can choose?_

_I am a hat, Credence. I can hardly enforce my choices._

Credence laughed. _I guess I was expecting something, but this is all right._

_Good. Hufflepuff would be glad to have you if you had insisted._

_Really? Newt seemed to miss it a lot._

_Of course he would, they live next to the kitchens. The small fool sat under me with a kitten in his robes, having discovered her on the grounds before arriving for sorting._

_That sounds like him._

_He asked me where the kitchens were, completely negligent as to what house he wanted. So I directed him to Hufflepuff. She is still here, from the yowls and yelps I hear in the corridors. Students wander at night and discover the school’s sentinel in the worst of ways. Dippet has a liking of her. The audacious beast knocked me from my shelf._

Credence smiled and apologized. _I need to go. I have to get a wand before we find Newt._

_Indeed. The horn has turned against you._

He paused, his heart falling. _What do you mean?_

_Rowena had a theory she never tested. That a wand’s purpose only served as long as the user’s intent remained the same. The wand chooses the wizard, but only as long as they remained true to their character. The horned serpent is the proprietor of wisdom and cunning. Your mind has changed._

Credence realized, _It broke after I sent Newt away._

 _Mm. Perhaps,_ the hat considered, _Or you do not need a source of learning. Your mind and heart are no longer tumultuous and unsure. You need an aid to your actions. I daresay an incredibly strong wand will be your next tool. But I am not Ollivander, quite a Ravenclaw._

_You’re like him. He never forgets either._

_I will take that as compliment, Credence Goldstein. I will leave you with something I once told Godric: quiet or robust, it matters not your roars spent, nor the sharpness of your claws. Rather, cherish for whom they rend. Now set me back upon my shelf, and tell Newt that infernal beast he saved yet thrives._

Credence laughed in his head as he pulled it off and blinked in the light of the windows. Albus smiled at him from beside the fireplace crackling with green flames. Tina and Queenie were in the room with his case in hand. “That was quite a stall.”

Credence’s hand rummaged through his hair. “More of a conversation. It knew immediately what I’d be.”

“That information is yours to share or not. Ollivander is ready for you.”

“Uh, I’d like to know,” Jacob said but let the subject drop.

“Thank you, sir,” he said as he handed Albus the hat.

“About that,” Albus said as he accepted the hat and placed it back on its self. “It is a respectful pleasantry, but you needn’t call me ‘sir.’ I’ve quite given up my right to it, whatever the kinder critics might say.”

Credence processed this, but he found the words rather easily. “If you don’t mind…I think it fits. You’re the closest to a knight I’ve known, sir. Well, apart from Newt. He didn't want to be called it either.”

Albus’s eyes shined as his head bowed. It was the first and probably the last occasion he would ever see the man speechless. “Thank you, Credence. Thank you very much.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” Jacob seconded. “I mean, you’re kinda dodgy with your secrets but I can see you on a chocolate frog card someday.”

Albus laughed freely. “How wonderfully kind. I cannot deny that I would hold that as my finest achievement. Now go, please, before I embarrass myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albus is having a Sherlock moment and this is two chapters without my precious cinnamon roll ç _ ç He'll be back soon, promise <3 <3 <3


	21. Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence gets a new wand.

“Hmm.”

Jacob lazily paced the open area of Ollivander’s shop while the wand maker inspected Credence’s wand core.

“Hmmm.”

Tina blinked pointedly. “Yes? What?”

It was another moment before Ollivander responded. “When you first brought this to me, Credence, I could not hold it. You remember?”

His eyes observed Ollivander’s fingertips directly holding the pale bone of the horn and its ever so faint opalescent green fibers. “It’s not shocking you.”

“Now why would that be?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s almost as if it wants me to touch it. You bugger, you’re bringing me to a conclusion I find most distasteful,” he said to the horn.

“You don’t have a wand for him?” Tina worried.

“I have thousands of wands,” he proclaimed. “Certainly one would cooperate for him but that would not do. I must direct you to Gregorovitch for the time being.”

His tone was both one of a disgruntled child and a professional’s discontent. Tina asked, “Time being? What’s wrong with Gregorovitch?”

Ollivander’s eyebrows lifted. “Nothing is outright _wrong_ with the man, however I thoroughly disapprove of his methods. He will have a strong wand for you, if his boasts are anything to go by.”

“Why can’t I have one of yours?” Credence wondered.

Ollivander was still on his elbows over the counter, inspecting the serpent horn shaving. “Because I want to encase this core again. Differently this time, which means I’ll be making a bit of a trip.” He stood up straight to insert the shaving into the glass case in which it was delivered once more.

“Will it still work for me afterward?” Credence asked.

“Hard to say,” Ollivander sighed. “I am sorry I cannot be of more immediate help. Do not send Gregorovitch my regards. I will never hear the end of it if he knew I sent you.”

“Where is this Gregoro—’s place?” Jacob asked by the door.

Ollivander looked up. “Ah, just past Gringotts, take the left. His storefront is lilac.”

“Lilac,” Jacob nodded and murmured to Queenie. “Does he mean purple or do we gotta go through a plant?”

She smiled and pushed him out the door. Before Credence left Ollivander said, “If you find yourself in London, Credence, or in need of another wand, come see me. We will test if this stubborn core will choose you again.”

He nodded and followed Tina down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. As pleasant as it was to be back, he was impatient to leave. Soon enough, though, they found the light purple façade painted with gold letters: _Wands by Gregorovitch._

An old but small, thick iron bell clanged as they entered, and the four of them gazed around an interior which was vastly alternate from the outside. A young woman with dark hair cropped just above her shoulders looked up at them. She smiled, “You lot seem surprised.”

Her English was slightly accented but she seemed nice enough. Jacob answered, “Uh, yeah. It’s just a little dark compared to the front, don’tcha think?”

“That’s my doing. I'm still working on him to redecorate,” she smirked and turned around. “Papa. _Klienti.”_

“Mm?” a man’s voice was heard. The man himself was of medium size but strong build with similar shoulder-length hair and quite a bit of silver threaded through it. “Güd morning,” he said, much more accented than his daughter’s. He reminded Credence of William by the wood shavings dusting his sleeves. His hair was held back by thin leather thong. “Vand or repair?”

“I need a wand, please,” Credence voiced.

“In vhat style?”

Credence froze. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“Vhat style,” Gregorovitch repeated. “Vhat is your line of vork? Domestic or volatile?”

“Volatile probably?” he guessed.

“Probably,” the man laughed but not unkindly. “You’re not sure?”

“I break most wands I touch,” he supplied.

“Ah, I see. Well then.” Without further discussion, Gregorovitch palmed Credence’s head, the base of his hand rested just above his brows.

“Oh!” Queenie piped before silencing herself.

“Isn’t this illegal?” Tina exclaimed.

“Only mildly. I am not reading his mind,” Gregorovitch offered briefly before his own brows furrowed, his eyes closed in concentration. Behind him, almost a dozen wand boxes slid halfway out of their stacks.

“He’s attractive,” the woman said suddenly as he rotated to walk among the boxes.

“I do not lovver my prices becauze you like somevon,” he chided indifferently, reading the labels on the box ends.

“Well I tried,” she said, her eyes on Credence as she winked. He swallowed, unsure what to do with that. He settled for pressing his lips into an uncomfortable smile and looked back at the wand maker. The man looked among several boxes before he commanded them to arrive at the counter. “Would you like some tea while you go through them?” his daughter asked.

“Love some!” Queenie agreed.

The woman left as Gregorovitch gestured to the boxes. “At your leizure.”

Credence opened the first his hand touched: a yellow-wooded thing that was slightly curved with no discernible handle. Credence’s fingers moved over it to pull it out but something from it was a silent refusal. He covered it with the lid once more. The next was a shockingly red wood with a pummel of sorts, so round and bulbous was the end. Upon lifting it out of the case, the end fired pink sparks. Gregorovitch sent these two wands back to their shelves while his daughter poured fragrant red tea into glass cups for them.

Credence outright destroyed the following one but Gregorovitch said nothing as he removed the velvet sheet from within the next box. He gazed down at the wood so dark it was black apart from the lighter marbling the wood, almost like gold or coppery threads. Gregorovitch watched closely as his daughter reacted, "Papa, that one? I thought it was unstable."

Credence looked up at the wand maker, who was only silent as he observed. Credence lifted it out, liking the carving of the handle, not unlike his previous wand’s texture—

“Oh,” he blurted as a heat shot through his arm, hardening his wrist and forearm so he could not release the wand if he wanted to. Something about it was electric but did not hurt him. “What is this one?”

“Thundervird feather in African black vood,” Gregorovitch answered. “A vierce wand.”

“That’s the one,” his daughter approved. “Your hair’s sticking up too. I’ll ring you up!”

“Vull price, now. I vent through great trouble to get that core.”

 _“Tak, tak,_ papa,” she nodded as he went back into his workshop. “But I keep telling him the eight button is broken. I’ll just have to ring it up with something less.” She looked up at Credence but he was still examining his wand.

Her attention snapped to Queenie who placed the full amount of coins on the counter with the whisper, “Discount the next one, maybe.”

*******

“Are we sure Newt’s in Paris?” Jacob asked as their ship moved over the Thames and London faded behind them.

“Paris has a large shopping district like Diagon Alley,” Queenie considered as she looked around them before transfiguring her rose coat into a longer, thicker robe with a fluffier collar and lapels against the wind. “He’s gotta be around there.”

“Well we’ve got a few hours,” Tina stated, “and to be honest, I’m not expecting to search long before we find him.”

Credence looked hopefully at her while Jacob chuckled. “Yeah, you found us pretty quick that one time.”

“He makes it easy,” she smiled. “Although hopefully it won’t be because any creatures got out this time.”

“He speaks the language, so it’s not like he’ll stand out as the Brit anymore,” Queenie considered.

“Yeah, but Newt stands out in his own way.”

Credence smiled. “He does.”

Tina and Queenie looked at him with remarkably similar smirks on their faces.

*******

Paris was unique.

It was slightly warmer, firstly, but also the architecture was vastly different from London’s. Entire blocks were covered by one structure and the Seine was turquoise instead of the Thames’ murky sepia. As they neared the harbor, one of the dockhands called out, “Don’ be fooled. The French drink their absinthe an’ piss green.”

“Absinthe?” Credence puzzled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jacob said. “The English got a sorta rivalry with the French. I noticed it while I was over here the first time. Let’s get off this boat, huh?”

Credence tread over the dock and felt the solid stone of the pavement under his feet. Suddenly, this was real. Newt felt close, and Credence had no idea what he was going to do or say. His stomach weightlessly fluttered in his abdomen.

Queenie and Jacob walked hand in hand ahead of him, taking the time to marvel at the vast boulevards while Tina watched from Credence’s side. “You know…I did something pretty bad to Newt once.”

He looked at her. “It can’t be as bad as me.”

“Eehm,” she hummed dubiously, “it was downright awful, I think. You know about the bank and how Newt’s creatures got out, but not how I did something pretty despicable. I turned him in.”

His lips parted, remembering seeing the both of them in manacles. “But…what?”

“I wanted my job back,” she elaborated, “and kept finding any reason for Picquery to give it to me. I thought catching an unregistered wizard with a case full of illegal creatures would either do it or be a step in the right direction. I didn’t know who Graves really was, or how he would use Newt’s creatures as scapegoats while he chased after your obscurus. I made it worse by approaching Picquery in the middle of an International Confederation meeting. They were all together because the no-maj senator had died and magical people were close to being exposed. Newt was arrested—well, we all were: me, Jacob, and Newt… His case was torn right out of his hands."

A small gasp moved in Credence’s throat. Tina continued, “He yelled all way to our cell, begging them to understand his creatures were safe and innocent. But you know what? He never blamed me.”

Credence gazed at her. “Why not?”

She laughed, then. “I didn’t really have the time to ask since we had to, you know, escape and capture the last of his creatures. But I think that’s just the kind of person he is. He understands. He’ll understand for you.”

He felt her hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing the tension there. “I’m sure as long as you don’t harm one of his creatures, he’ll never hate you.”

Credence huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Tina mirrored his mirth and held him a little closer in a minute hug before she called up to Queenie, “Should we find a place to stay the night first?”

“Sure! Just in case,” she agreed.

Credence giggled. “We'll stay in the case anyways.”

“Yeah!” Jacob beamed. “You got it!”

Queenie smiled and said, “Theseus said L’Hôtel et Salon des Fleurs was a nice spot.”

Jacob reeled. “When’d he say that?”

“Newt said Theseus could get in touch with him,” Queenie explained, “so I wrote him a letter. He said somebody looking for a Scamander in France should stay there.”

She rolled a shoulder with a smile back at them and led the way. She asked the first person she knew would speak English and they directed her to the Tuileries Gardens. Along the way Jacob whistled as he observed certain key places. “Wow. Wizards sure like to make home right in the middle a’everything don’t they?”

Queenie found the hotel: a small façade apart of a much larger structure looking out over one of the entrances to the gardens. On either side of the doors were windows to a café which looked to be apart of the hotel. The sounds of cutlery and chatter were loud as they passed through the spacious gap in tables where the foyer was marked in architectural changes as well as a wide crimson carpet guiding them to the concierge desk. Credence looked up at the glass dome over their heads and realized the inside did not match the outside. They were among wizards now, who clearly preferred a large amount of natural lighting.

 _“Bonjour. Anglais ou français?”_ the concierge asked.

“English, please,” Queenie replied.

“Welcome to Paris,” he smiled kindly. “Are you seeking a room or a table? Perhaps a private salon?”

“A room would be swell,” she charmed. “One bed is fine. We packed our own.”

“But of course, and for how many nights would you like to reserve it?”

“Um,” Queenie exchanged looks with her sister. “Two at least.”

“Would you like to pay for two and then reserve the third night? If your plans change you may proceed accordingly.”

“Sure,” Queenie agreed and the transaction was made. Credence watched as her coins were eaten by a marble frog he’d previously thought was for decoration. It belched up a gold key with a leather tag embossed with their room number in golden ink.

“Up these stairs to your left,” the concierge narrated as he gestured. “If you will be wanting the services of our café, simply select a table and _les serveurs_ will attend you. For a private salon, _le concierge_ will provide you another key.”

The architects of the building were clever in how they induced occupants to move through the impressive interior design. The four of them passed through a section of the café to reach the stairs, receiving the full scope of the spacious interior, skylights, and marble floors. As they went up the stairs, the molding and gilt edges of the walls made L’Hotel seem a cross between a conservatory and a modest palace.

“So where is this market district you were talkin’ about?” Jacob asked as Queenie opened their door. The room was similarly lavish but no sooner did they drop off Credence’s case then they shut it once more and returned to the stairs.

“It’s in the Gare d’Orsay,” Tina provided.

Jacob paused. “The train station? How is there an undercover market in the—never mind. Stupid question.”

“Not necessarily,” Tina said. “It can be hard to know which places double as wizard businesses, even among us. Who you know is everything on our side of the community. Queenie makes it easier for us. Come on, just over the river.”

The train station was visible down the street and over a bridge, across from the Tuileries gardens: a massive structure with a clock on the exterior. “Everything looks like a king’s house here,” Credence commented as they approached.

Jacob laughed, “Yeah, the French love their detail. The espressos aren’t bad neither. Now how do we make this place into a market instead of a station?”

“Gimme a sec,” Queenie murmured as she concentrated. After a moment she squinted. “It’s harder since there are twice as many people in one place… Over there.”

Instead of the main entrance, Queenie went around the building and aimed for one of the windows. She passed right through it, quickly followed by her sister, Jacob, and Credence. Within was a vast and long room filled with so many merchants that makeshift stairs were made from crates so people could ascend to the stalls stacked over one another. Instead of precarious, the place looked colourfully full and bustling.

“What list did Dumbledore give Newt?” Jacob said as he looked up at the array of exotic birds in the steel rafters.

“Something about diamond slug and swamp cat slime,” Credence said.

“Sounds like an apothecary’s store,” Tina said. “Or a potions master.”

“But those things don’t exist,” Credence countered.

“It’s still a good place to start.”

“This way,” Queenie directed through the crowd. She found the potions ingredients merchant in an alcove of sorts, which may have been a good thing since at first glance Credence saw several boxes and bottles tagged with a skull and crossbones. The merchant noticed them and a barrage of French came from his mouth.

“Um, Anglais?” Tina tried.

“English?” he grimaced.

“A little farther,” Queenie seconded.

His brows lifted. “American? Yes, what would you like? I have everything. Crushed scales are half price if you buy two.”

“No, we’re looking for a person,” Tina corrected.

He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t deal in preservatives. Depending on what…part you’re looking for, certain people can be referred to—”

“No! God, a living _breathing_ person. He would have visited you here,” Tina sighed raggedly. Jacob and Credence exchanged mildly horrified looks.

“Oh, _oui_ this is easier,” he settled. “A ‘he’ you say?”

“Newt Scamander,” Queenie provided. “Kinda shy but colorful? Light brown, auburn hair. Freckles. Long blue robe, but it might be a no-maj’s coat too.”

“No-maj?” he halted.

“No magic,” Tina clarified.

“Ah. _Nous disons—_ er, we say ‘magpies.’”

Queenie frowned and glanced at her sister as she said, “Magpies? Like…the bird?”

The merchant rolled his hand as he explained, “Our way of saying no magic is sometimes interpreted by English speakers in this way. However it is _pas magique,_ but the English care so little for these fine details—”

“You’re is right, we’re losing time,” Queenie interrupted with a glance to Credence. His eyes widened, realizing he had thought too loudly. “Did you see Newt?”

The merchant sighed, annoyed. “Americans too. No, I do not know this Newt. I have dried newts, though. One free if you buy two.”

“He hasn’t seen him,” Queenie verified as they left the man’s table. “How about someone who would sell things his creatures would need? Food, medicine?”

“He usually gets those himself,” Credence worried. “And he restocked while we were at Hogwarts.”

Tina huffed with her hands on her hips. “Woulda been nice if Albus had shared with us that list. Who would have thought Paris would be so quiet—”

“Ah! Eegh—eh—Aaahhh! Help! HELP ME!”

“That’s more like it,” Tina remarked.

“No way,” Jacob laughed but as a man came into view, he just as easily vanished within hanging fabrics and a knocked over boxes of peppers.

“I don’t see a creature chasing him,” Queenie doubted. The only reason people took any interest in him was because he was destroying awnings and table displays in his wake—

“Um,” Credence pointed.

On the other side of the hall Newt lithely ran over crates and ducked under tables with much less destruction. Whoever he was chasing whined and begged, “Help! Help me!”

Newt vanished within a forest of towering paintings and frames but Credence launched into a run, or as much of one as the market allowed. “Be careful!” he heard Tina call after him but Jacob was louder beside him, “This way!”

Jacob proved far better at maneuvering through the cramped bazaar than the bull of destruction but his pace came to an apex between him and Newt. “Brace yourself!” he said as the four of them collided.

Jacob tackled the man to the ground, arms around his legs whereas Newt’s grace was cut short from tripping over him. Credence managed to remain standing and went to help Newt, who had tumbled under several tables with his case clutched to his chest to keep it closed. Crouching to move fabrics and wincing against rogue oranges falling, Credence lifted a wide shawl the same moment Newt did.

Newt's eyes widened. Then to his utter bafflement, Newt smiled. “Hello!”

But Credence’s eyes locked onto the garnet crescent along the corner of Newt’s eye, which was glossy from teary irritation. It was fresh but Newt’s other eye was not. Splotches of indigo and violet framed the blue eye and its hazel ring.

“Newt!” Jacob bellowed. “He’s slippin’!”

“Excuse me,” he rushed past Credence, who was struck by the warm and clean scent that was _Newt._

The man freed himself by the time Newt reached Jacob but he was now close enough for the man to forego caution entirely. He failed to dodge someone moving an urn as large as themselves and collided with it. He and the urn crashed into piles of spices and dyes, opening a hole in the bazaar. Credence watched Newt disapparate and reappear in the middle of the chaos to grasp the man’s arm before he uttered _“Tempus reditus!”_ and they both vanished.

Queenie grabbed both Jacob and Credence before Tina held her and apparated them all out of the Gare d’Orsay. “Over here!” Queenie called when they landed on the pavement. She came around the building just in time to see the man sprint out of the alleyway and neglect all traffic to get across a bridge and into the gardens. All the warning Credence had was the sound of apparition from the alley before he felt the same constriction around him. The aroma of green grass and leaves was a welcome inhale as they arrived in the gardens and saw the man collapse with petrificus totalus.

Credence clutched his chest, trying to catch his breath as he came around the bushes and overhanging branches to hear Newt breathe, “You are as fit as ever, Mr. Gunswan, I'll grant you that.”

He flicked his wand and the upper half of the man released as the others joined Credence. “No! No! Stay away from ‘im!” he said in a thick English accent. “ ‘E’s dangerous!”

“There’s been a misunderstanding, Mr.—” Newt began.

“No! No! Don’t you step near me!” he snapped, trying to drag and kick his way elsewhere.

Jacob huffed a laugh as Newt scratched his hair. “This guy? Yeah, he’s somebody you want on your side but he’s way too nice. You’re actin’ like he kidnapped your wife or somethin’.”

“Newt,” Tina called, “please explain.”

Newt switched the hand holding his case and said, “Mr. Gunswan and I were dragon keepers during the war. I came to the market to find him.”

“Wha’ more do ye want?” the man in question barked. “You already stole the bloody beasts and poisoned us so we didn’ follow you!”

Newt sighed raggedly. “I didn’t poison anybody. I made a sleeping draught, and if I remember correctly you had supped on a bottle of gin. I didn’t need to induce you to sleep and any discomfort would have been from the drink.”

Mr. Gunswan’s panic paused. “Really? No—No, that doesn’ matter because they found you with the whole bloody colony! What kinda bloke captures any dragon let alone a colony! A bloomin’ deadly one!”

Jacob and Newt exchanged glances as the latter exhaled, “I suppose it’s complimentary though not accurate to what happened. You might have allowed me to explain, instead of creating a trail through _d’Orsay.”_

“The hell could you want?” he whined. “I haven’t seen a dragon since ’21.”

Credence’s eyes wandered his sweaty face and uneven stubble. Thick patches of skin on his jaw, neck, and hands revealed long since healed burns. They were nothing like the one on Newt’s back.

“I want to know where they are,” Newt said.

Gunswan flinched. “The other keepers?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Newt acquiesced. “I mean the dragons.”

The man’s features opened. “The colony? Why would ye want them? The batch was rotten to begin with.”

Newt inhaled with a reprieving look toward the sky. “No, they were simply dragons being dragons.”

“Yeah. They’re rotten,” he reiterated. “Dragons can’t be tamed. From the first minute t’the last, they’re tryin’ to bite yer head off or burn it so they can eat it like a crisp.”

Newt laughed breathily. “They don’t eat people. Humans are distasteful to them.”

Mr. Gunswan looked among the others. “He’s fuckin’ mad!”

“Don’t say that,” Credence uttered.

“Yeah, you’re outnumbered, pal,” Jacob agreed. “Why don’t you tell Newt what he’s asking, huh?”

“Well I don’know,” he barked. “As I said, haven’ worked with dragons in almost six years.”

“Still comfortable trading their goods, though,” Newt cornered. “Who’s leather are you selling? Louis’? Adéle’s or Florence?...Colette?”

“Christ, you would name them,” Gunswan scoffed. “I dunno. I don’ have connections with’em anymore. I’m given the wares an’ I sell them. That’s all. I can tell what’s good quality or no’, that’s what makes me useful. You’d have better luck with that cock Bartholomew Kraus. He actually took the job with a career in mind. He’s still in Romania.”

“Germany, actually,” Newt corrected, earning an impressed look from Gunswan.

“He won’ like seein’ you again,” he warned.

“That will be shared,” Newt admitted. He undid the rest of the bind and the man sat up to put his elbows on his knees.

“Alrigh'. Answer me this: why you want those beasts back?”

Newt slid his wand back into his holster before he responded, “It’s complicated to explain.”

Gunswan scoffed. “Well I’d be damned surprised tha’ anybody let you back on that colony’s team.”

“I wouldn’t exactly be asking,” Newt returned, yet bashfully.

Gunswan outright hacked laughter. “I’d love t’see Kraus’s face. Blimey, the things he said behind your back—”

Gunswan was cut short from an invisible impact launching him across the immediate lawns. He landed with a rough _thud,_ skidding over the grass and once more in a bind.

Jacob and Newt gaped at one another. Newt even looked down at Jacob’s hands as if he could have done it before they looked back at Credence, who appeared stunned with his wand in hand. “Sorry—my wand…it’s new.”

Newt looked at it and tilted his head. “That’s not Ollivander’s.”

“Mine burned out. Mr. Ollivander said I should see Gregorovitch until he finds a case for my wand core.”

Newt nodded softly, his features open in that mystified stare he sometimes had. Credence swallowed but Jacob voiced, “Should you, uh, release him?”

“I think it would be better if he sleeps while we leave,” Newt suggested, and after a point of his wand, the figure in the distance relaxed out of his rigid pose.

Newt turned—“Oh.”—and was intercepted by Tina hugging him.

“What in the name of Deliverance Dane has been done to your face?” she cornered.

“Oh. Ehm,” he began as they parted. “This side was him. I’m afraid I rather took him by surprise,” he said with a look toward Gunswan and a gesture to the red mark under his eye. “And this side really isn’t worth mentioning.”

“Newt,” Tina refuted. “You can’t walk around Paris with two black eyes.”

“Well it’s hardly my fault these keepers are so suspicious,” he defended. “They sought to incriminate me and now they believe their own stories about me.”

“Wait,” she realized, “you’ve been here tracking down the keepers? Nothing to do with Dumbledore’s list?”

“Well, no, the list is a lie,” Newt said like it was obvious. “I’ve lived with him, I know when he’s lying. Besides, slime from a swamp cat is ludicrous. They’re named for their greenish colouring, not any sort of slime.”

Understanding dawned on his face but was interrupted by the silken sound of Credence's laughter. Newt's features softened on him while one of Tina's brows lifted, but a smirk was beneath it. “Apparently you’re pretty hard to nail down once you take flight. We had to get to you before that happened.”

“Whatever for? As you can see and heard, I’m not headed toward remarkably safe company.”

“Sounds like a reason to stick wit’cha, to me,” Jacob said.

“We shouldn't talk about this here,” Tina realized as she looked around them.

“Wonderful. I’m ravenous,” Newt agreed, and led the way out of the garden and down the street to the L’Hotel. Newt navigated the pavement crowds as easily as he had in New York, inducing Tina to hold the bend in his elbow so they stayed together until the entrance of the café. A piano was playing by itself as Newt passed by it to reach a table large enough to accommodate them.

As Newt sat down, however, he deflated as if he had been on his feet for much longer than they knew. Credence shyly looked up at him and realized the man was exhausted. There was a haggard darkness to his features Credence had not seen before.

A waitress swept by the table and said something in French, to which Newt answered so softly and quickly Credence could not catch it. From her tray, she set down a golden stand with tiers as if it was meant to display cookies, and then a moment later it was. Sweets, sandwiches, and a large kettle of tea now consumed the space on their table. Newt poured his cup and proceeded to gulp it down without milk or sugar.

Jacob and Tina stared at him, the latter jibing after his second cup, “Pace yourself, pal. It’s double brewed.”

Queenie giggled whereas Tina said, “We got two nights here. How soon were you going to Germany?”

“Not immediately,” he exhaled, “but how are you here? How long of a holiday does MACUSA usually give?”

“Oh!” Queenie piped, “I’ve got that. Mr. Scamander—Theseus, a’course—got us a little partnership. Madame President thinks we’re helpin’ England’s aurors while we’re here.”

A small grin peeked through Newt’s lips. “At some point she may catch on.”

Queenie shrugged as her fists caught her chin, smug. She held Newt’s gaze, sharing something silently between them until he looked away with a sort of smirk on his face. Then with a brisk inhale she announced, “I left somethin’ in the room. Jacob wouldja help me?”

“Uh, sure, no problem,” he agreed, and together they stood and left, but not before Queenie gave her sister a smile.

Tina was eating a sandwich as she asked, “Where to, then? How many keepers are ya tracking down?”

“There are known places where dragons are kept. Reservations, that sort of thing. I’ve already checked the one in _Normandie_ so Germany is next. I may need to make a trip to the _Pyrénées_ but that will wait. English keepers mostly work in the same patterns and we worked with Germans so…”

“You worked with German dragon keepers?” Tina marveled.

Newt looked up at her. “It was the muggles who were fighting, not us. I’m not saying it was any less difficult but different dragons live in Spain and Portugal so we never really had need to interact with those—”

“Shoot,” Tina cursed, suddenly standing. “I’ve got the key to our room. I’ll save Queenie the trip. Keep a sandwich out for me.”

Newt watched her go, and the realization crashed into Credence that they were alone. He peeked at Newt whose gaze wandered over certain spots before he thoughtlessly plucked something from the stacked trays onto his plate before his hands came to rest on his knees.

Credence blurted, “Thank you.”

Newt perked up curiously.

“For my present. And the gifts. You didn’t need to…”

“It’s nothing to do with needing to,” Newt said softly. “I wanted to.” He fell silent for some time before he added, “The others wanted to also. I mean—well, I suppose that was obvious.” He frowned to himself and looked down.

Credence’s lips curved in a small smile. “I like the case.”

“Good!” Newt brightened. “I know you don’t like bright things, but…none of the others fit somehow. Have you eaten the cake?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“That’s all right, it has a charm so it won’t spoil.”

“Am I supposed to eat it all or…can I share it?” Credence asked.

Newt blinked. “It’s yours. Perhaps, um, I mean often cakes are shared. Birthdays are usually less for us and more for others to celebrate us in their lives, but Jacob made it for you. He won’t mind—”

“I want to share it,” Credence decided.

“All right,” Newt nodded. “The others will like that.”

Another silence fell between them. Tina did not need to worry about the sandwiches running out as neither of them touched the food. Eventually Credence ventured, “What happened? With your eye?”

“Oh, this?” Newt flashed a smile as he touched his eye, gently moving the skin there. “One of the occumies escaped. Nothing to worry about, it was at night, thankfully, but he did make quite a mess of the windows. Thankfully that waitress was kind enough to lend me a kettle with some bait and not tell anybody. I daresay she’s seen far worse come in here. A wing did catch me here, though. I’ve had to stay in my robes since they enjoy my coat pockets too much.”

Credence visibly relaxed, his shoulders slowly lowering from his ears. That mischievous smile returned to Newt’s face. “Don’t tell Tina. She’ll think I need a chaperone more than she already does.”

Credence laughed suddenly, his heart swelling. “She doesn’t think that. She missed you… We all did.”

“You’re not eager to return to New York?” Newt wondered.

Credence shrugged. “I’m not returning to anything.”

Newt nodded slightly. “I understand… Your wand.” Credence looked up. “Another one in the bin?” he teased.

“Ollivander said the core might still work for me but he doesn't know. He didn't think he would have the right wand for me so he sent us to Gregorovitch’s shop.”

That glazed look of wonder eclipsed Newt’s eyes. “I’ve never been to his shop before.”

“Why not?”

Newt considered, “It’s a traditional thing, I suppose. You go to where your parents got their wands. But you like it?”

Credence glanced down at it in his holster. “I think so…I’m still getting used to it.”

He slid it out of the leather hold and Newt’s lips parted as they met across the table. He moved the tray aside to better see it. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed. “Is it snakewood?”

“He only said it was African blackwood,” Credence guessed as Newt slid the pad of a finger across the grain—

He jerked slightly as a shock passed through him. Slowly he lifted his hand, and the wand stuck to it. He grinned, “It’s magnetic? No—What is the core?”

“A thunderbird feather.”

Newt’s brows lifted as his eyes shut in long blinks. “Those are difficult to get.”

“You had one,” Credence said quietly, in case of eavesdroppers from other tables.

“I had Frank,” Newt acquiesced fondly. “He did molt a few times. I keep them…sentimental reasons.”

Credence absorbed this and nodded slightly. “Was he your favorite?”

Newt smiled softly. “One of them, yes. I try not to have too many of those because their own environments are far better than staying with me. Frank grew nearly a third his size after being out of my case.”

“But you keep some of them,” Credence said as a familiar clicking joined their conversation.

“Yes,” Newt admitted, looking down at Pickett emerging from the interior of his robe. “When they are too stubborn and too spoiled to go.”

Pickett looked up at him, saying something in his frilly language before he climbed over his raiment. “At least someone benefits from my scar. He had a cold. His need for body warmth started this. Not that I would part with him anyway. Pickett’s saved my life and more.”

He watched the springy leaves descend to the tabletop, where he inspected the items curiously. One of his feet landed in a cream puff, which he shook off before he started climbing the tiered tray and spotted Credence. A high-pitched growl burst from him as he swung down and marched across the tablecloth and stomped his sharp fingers into the fabric.

“Pickett—” Newt tried to reach for him but Pickett stabbed his fingers aside and continued his rolling popping sounds at Credence. “I’m so sorry. He’s ehm…protective.”

Credence’s eyes softened as he watched Pickett scold him. His eyelashes flicked up at Newt. “I’m sorry.”

Newt’s lips parted as he blinked dreamily. Credence swallowed, “I was angry…for the wrong reasons. I’m sorry for what I said.”

Newt’s mouth pressed into a small smile. “Thank you, Credence.”

“Can I…” he blurted, “I guess, can _we,_ travel with you?”

Pickett was noticeably silent as Newt’s smile widened. He gave a show of turning the corners of his mouth down in contemplation before he concluded, “Who am I to deny you an adventure?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for a lot of awkward flirting because HOOO DANG it's coming.


	22. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group journeys into post-war Germany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I finally watched _The Danish Girl_ and got a close up inspection of Eddie’s eyes and……………..they’re green. Well shit. But WHATEVER we’re moving past it. Also I’m really sorry about the delay. My mental health did a Pocahontas dive and college got hard so now we’re in winter break~
> 
> Also, a tiny detail changed from the last chapter. Newt says he's going to Provence next, but scratch that, we're going straight to Germany. But a brief pit-stop first....

Newt slept the remainder of the day.

When he figured out the others were not returning to the table, Credence led the way upstairs where Newt looked around the room with mild curiosity before descending into his case. Tina followed him in to ask, “Where were you staying?”

“There’s a cloak room downstairs,” he replied offhandedly. “A good place to store parcels, bags, and such. Much less expensive.”

“Do they know you were in their cloak room?” she asked with humorous skepticism.

“I don’t do everything illegally, you know,” he retorted tiredly.

“Just checking,” she charmed.

“I’m not sure you can, seeing as you’re the one with a mob leader as an informant.”

“Yeah, well, next time I run into Gnarlack I’ll return the favor he did to us.”

“Hey, Teenie,” Queenie called into the case. “Jacob and I are gonna get some flowers. Do ya have a preference?”

“Nothing expensive. We’re only here another day,” her sister replied from the caravan.

“Newt? What about you?”

“Forgive me, but I’d like to rest now. Whatever you want is fine.”

Queenie turned around and met Credence’s gaze. “Flowers will spruce up the place. There was a vendor around the corner, and I’m sure I can convince him to give us a sale. You comin’? I could use the extra hands.”

Credence had nothing else to do so he went along. True to Queenie’s words, she charmed the merchant and handed Credence a bucket of flowers before handing Jacob another. “Uh,” he laughed. “Why so many?”

“Because Newt…needs them. A spring touch and some spring cleaning will do him well.”

“I feel like this is more packing than cleaning,” Jacob murmured as he figured out a way to carry two hefty buckets of blooms comfortably. But as Queenie began to leave with a bouquet of calla lilies on her arm, Credence looked back at Jacob buying one more flower, which he tucked inside his jacket.

Tina was drying her hair with a towel when they returned, and she gaped at them. “I said nothing expensive!”

“Oh they weren’t,” Queenie grinned.

*******

Credence looked up at Queenie descending the ladder into his case. She landed with a sigh and rotated—to stop short.

“What are you doing in here?”

He looked around him. “This is my room.”

The calla lilies sagged in her arms. “Sure…I guess I thought ya’d be spending your time in Newt’s case.”

His gaze wandered between the spell book in his hands and the whispering blue flames in his fire pit. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

She peeked at him as her wand pointed in the air. A tall vase materialized on the stone edge of the pit, into which she arranged the flowers. “He won’t mind.”

Credence watched her for a time, his fingertips moving over the edges of pages. “I know.”

She peeked up at him. “All dressed up with nowhere to go?” His chin lifted but his brows twitched in a frown. A small consoling smile was on her lips. “We’re finally here but you’re not quite sure how to behave. You’ve never done this part before. You don’t need t’feel embarrassed. Newt’s not the type to hold a grudge.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “It just…doesn’t feel right.”

Queenie turned to him fully. “Whadya mean?”

As he gathered his words she came to sit next to him. “He’s going to be busy looking for the dragons. I don’t think…it’s the right time. And he might have…lost interest.”

“You weren’t interested before,” she said gently. “Not until Dumbledore brought it up. Sorry…I know you don’t like it.”

She held her hands on her lap but looked up when Credence replied, “It’s okay. It…makes it easier. Especially now. I need easier.”

She giggled. “Love is complicated. That’s the meanest part of our world.”

“Is that what this is?” he asked quietly.

“Oh honey,” she whispered. “It _is._ ” She reached forward for his hands. “People are easiest to read when they’re hurting, and sometimes…that’s how you know. Love hurts us. It takes from us and hurts us until we willingly give to it. You’re hurting. Newt’s hurting too. Not for the same reasons—his head…”

Her curls caressed her cheeks as she shook her head. When she looked up at him, her eyes were glossy with tears. “He let me see inside once. Just once. He’s hurting real bad. Most of it is from those dragons. He misses them dearly. He believes if he finds them, he’ll find his happiness again—don’t tell the others,” she added shyly. “I’m not sure Newt meant to show me as much as he did. He mainly wanted to give me a lot of information about you. But because he was hurting for you…other pain came with it. Does that make sense?”

He absorbed this and nodded. “I think so. Like what? What did he tell you about me?”

A grin flashed on her face. “Oh. Various things. How you like your tea. When you wake up. Which spells you like to practice. What colors you explore. Other things.”

A rush of air came through his nose and she giggled. “My secret,” he teased.

One of her hands lifted to rake the hair off his face and caress the side of his head. “He’s observant. He gives. He gives a lot, but he…he hasn’t met the best reception to his giving. All y’need to do is show him that you will meet him halfway.”

“Even Dumbledore said he’d need convincing,” Credence sighed, but his eyes were heavy, his words falling to a whisper at the end.

A keen smile lingered on Queenie’s face. “You didn’t even know there was a place to meet at first. Maybe Newt just needs to know that too. Feelings change, or more like, they kinda hide until they’re allowed to be noticed.”

She eased over to kiss his cheek and stood. “I’m sending requests down to the restaurant for dinner. Any desires?”

He smiled softly and shook his head. “Anything.”

“Really? All up to me? I could get so carried away; it’s not often I’m not the one cooking.”

She sauntered to the ladder and flirtatiously swung on the rungs to look back at him. “We’ll have a French feast tonight.”

He laughed as she ascended to the hotel room and he heard Jacob’s baritone greet her. “Heya, hun. Newt’s really knocked out. I can take care a’his creatures for him but a couple of ‘em make me anxious. He an’I ran round New York for days and he didn’t crack a yawn, ya know? This is new.”

Credence had moved to the bottom of the ladder to listen. Queenie assured, “He’ll be all right. He’s got us now.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right,” he nodded contemplatively. Before Credence knew it, he was peeking out over the brim of his case. “Speakin’ of…well not at all but, I got ya somethin’.”

From his jacket he revealed a white rose. “It’s not a sunflower, but…well, apparently yellow roses stand for jealousy or somethin’ anyways so…white.”

Credence could not see her face as she slowly reached for the rose. “I love it!” she exhaled wistfully. “Oh, Jacob,” she landed in his arms, putting her own around his neck to kiss him, and then she pinched his chin. “You sly, I didn’t see a thing!”

He laughed, “I gotta keep you guessing. Hey, Credence.”

They turned to Credence emerging from his case and crossing the room to lithely step into Newt’s. “Hi,” he returned offhandedly.

Jacob watched him move through the case as easily as Newt did. “He’s gotten good at that.”

Credence caught the niffler on the ladder down, pinching his scruff as he held him to his chest. Experimentally, he remembered the veil Newt cast over the opening, and likewise touched each corner with his wand. His veil shimmered and flowed like an air current was passing through it. He shut the caravan behind him and released the niffler, who rummaged over various pots and tools that had been left out recently…before moving past the white tent to reach his burrow. Credence’s lips threatened to pull into a smile, but it faltered somewhat at seeing the flaps open and one of the nundus sleeping inside it.

Hector trilled a note, his ebony head reaching over the bar of his habitat toward Credence. Then he simply galloped in a circle, around the slumbering Newt, to glide over the gate. Credence caught his beak familiarly. Hector had a habit of nibbling fingers, which would have been all right if he did not also have the unconscious strength to break them. “No, leave them alone,” Credence scolded mildly as movement on the grass turned them both.

Newt was sitting up, moving a hand over his face. After a moment he did a double take at the peonies Queenie had enchanted to grow along the fence; the bulbous heads of white, pink, and red bringing a pleasantly surprised expression to his face as his gaze traveled up to Credence. “Hello, might I ask what time it is?”

“Queenie’s ordering dinner now,” he said.

“Ahm,” Newt acknowledged, rubbing his eyes and raking a hand through his hair before he stood. “Would you mind helping me?”

It was time for his creatures to be fed. “Sure,” he replied, and withdrew his wand to point at the meat shed. _“Alohamora.”_

It was easier to levitate the various slabs of meat or weasel carcasses out of the shed. Newt walked through the gate as they moved past him to the eager hippogriffs and graphorns. “Goodness, I left a mess to welcome you,” he realized, casting the pots and tools back into the caravan.

“It’s fine,” Credence murmured as he locked the shed once more. “The tent is still up.”

“Yes, well,” Newt said with a note of embarrassment, “there wasn’t much point in putting it away immediately.”

He went into the tent as Credence pushed, “Why don’t you use it?”

Newt reemerged with the reluctant nundu in his arms. “I never saw much of a point in putting a barrier between myself and my creatures. As you know, they would only find a way in regardless.”

Credence carried the bucket for the nundus and followed him through the curtain of water. The temperature of their rainforest was immediately hotter and the humidity clung to his skin. He smiled faintly at the memory of Hogwarts but evaded the adult nundu as he poured out their meal. Looking at their mother, it was intimidating to think the cubs would soon be just as massive. Newt set the one he had down and used his wand to clean and arrange various things before they left the habitat…

“Although, um,” he began. His hand slid over his nape. “Since it’s still up, the tent, I mean. You’re not unwelcome to use it. If you want, of course. Or not. It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

Newt wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were moving as he awaited Credence’s answer.

“Okay.”

His eyes flicked up.

“There’s more room in here for me to practice.”

Newt nodded once. “Of course.”

“And it would be easier to just sleep here if I’m spending time here in the evenings.”

A strained sort of smile flashed on Newt’s face. “You’re right, yes.”

“But…you can keep things in mine,” Credence said. Newt looked up again curiously. “So you don’t need to keep expanding in here.”

Newt blinked, considering. “That case is yours. It would be rude of me to move into someone else’s gift.”

“I don’t think so,” Credence insisted gently. “I want to help you, and…I’m not really good at decorating. Queenie’s put flowers in mine too.”

Newt laughed as he eyed the various blooms around the habitats. “Yes…I’m glad she’s enjoying Paris. Parisians can be…rather headstrong. Are you? Enjoying Paris?”

Credence considered this and nodded. “It’s different than New York and London. I haven’t been here long.”

Newt nodded contemplatively. “Queenie said the room was yours for two nights?”

“They paid for two and reserved a third night just in case,” he confirmed somewhat hopefully, but Newt’s lack of a reaction kept his heart in place. “You want to leave.”

Newt pressed his lips together. “I realize my schedule does not quite fit the others’.”

“We’ll go.”

He shook his head. “I can’t make you leave. You’ve just gotten here. The room’s been paid for—”

“We came for you, not Paris,” Credence said. “Would you leave tonight if we weren’t here?”

Newt inhaled but then answered honestly, “Yes. It is faster traveling alone.”

“We could just stay in your suitcase,” he said bluntly.

Newt laughed, and the tension ceased. “I suppose you’re right, but I won’t do that. We won’t leave tonight, and the Goldsteins may pick what they like from my niffler’s burrow to compensate for the wasted night. Dinner ought to be here by now. I’ll finish here and come up.”

He moved toward the mooncalves’ hill but Credence called, “Newt?”

He turned back to him. “Yes?”

“Could,” Credence shifted uncomfortably. “Could you fix your face?”

“Oh,” he exhaled a laugh and gently touched his black eyes. “Of course. I don’t look my best right now.”

“It’s not that…” Credence blurted but his words faded and he quickly turned to go somewhere else. Newt’s smile moved to the side, but he too remained silent.

Dinner saturated the air of the room when they climbed out of the case. It was delicious and enough for them to store away for the next week, but while Newt was initially more animated from the rejuvenation of sleep, Credence noticed his altered behaviour. He would laugh during a conversation but it would dwindle before the others’ as he looked elsewhere, his mind far away.

“So, when are we leavin’?” Tina asked eventually. The meal was over but every so often she reached for something on which to nibble.

Newt blinked twice as he gathered his attention toward her. “Tomorrow sometime, although I know the money for the room cannot be returned. I’d pay you back, of course—”

“You don’t need to do that,” Tina interrupted.

“No, I insist. My niffler’s burrow is yours to plunder.”

“Oh. Well if we’re plundering…” Tina retorted with amusement.

“What about tonight?” Credence said. The others looked at him. “Surely there’s a train or something we can use.”

Newt shook his head. “Thank you. Really, but—”

“After the war, cities never sleep,” Jacob seconded. “There’ll sure be a train somewhere. There’s gotta be a magic one, right? The one to your folks’ place was amazing!”

Newt smiled bashfully as the sisters chimed their support. “Traveling with your own rooms and board does make things easier,” Tina said warmly.

“We’ll be ready in no time!” Queenie announced. She stood and with movements of her wand, the food wrapped itself up, packed itself into Credence’s case, and both luggage items snapped shut. Each of their coats sauntered to its owner, ready to be worn.

The room’s door shut behind them.

*******

Sure enough, an overnight train was going east, and they caught it right as the whistle was blowing for last call. Their cubicle was cramped but cozy, and smelled of the lavender sticking out of the tiny vase on the windowsill. Not that it mattered, as they spent the evening in Newt’s case, but they stayed up to disembark at the stop in Burgundy.

Credence inhaled the frigid night air. Winter lingered here, but so did something else. Something distantly fragrant and ancient yet new—

“This way,” Newt announced, leading them out of the open air station.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Tina walked in stride with him.

“My great-grandmother was from this area and her estate remains in the family. I say estate…it’s more of a cottage, but these are her vineyards.”

He gestured loosely to the fields of shoulder-high shrubbery stretching for acres and acres from the station and rural road. Credence squinted and realized the plants were growing in rows. Tina and Jacob were silent as Queenie ventured toward them and came back with small, dark purple grapes.

“Say, uh, Newt?” Jacob called.

“Yes?”

“So are you…like wealthy or somethin’?”

Newt guffawed. “Oh, no no. My parents are. My mother especially.”

“Uh huh,” Jacob nodded, dazed.

“How often do ya use the house here, then?” Queenie chimed as she handed the grapes to Credence. The skin was crisp and exploded between his teeth to spill tart juice.

“Theseus spent his honeymoon here,” Newt said. “Mum and dad use it every so often. It’s a haven to get away. This is a shortcut.”

The trees were spaced a little wider in the row he led them through, and eventually they did see a darkness rising from the ground. But it was a hound and wizard who met them.

 _“English, Deutsch, ou Français._ You got no excuse for trespassing.”

 _“Oncle Harold?”_ Newt’s hand covered his eyes in the blinding lumos light.

The light dimmed and revealed a man who was a…hairier and burlier version of Charlotte Scamander. The hound was silent as he sniffed Newt’s robe.

“Well you’re not Theseus. Too speckly. And last I saw Claude, he was almost more silver than red. Are you little Newty? Not little any more but still skinny.”

 _“Bonsoir, oncle,”_ Newt smiled as his hand was shaken vigorously. _“Désolé pour la nuit tardive.”_

 _“Ah, ce n’est pas un problème,"_ he waved aside. “It’s bloody cold. Let’s get inside.”

The dog trotted beside him as he led the way to the house. Newt explained briefly, “My uncle is the caretaker, of sorts.”

“A humble host for the family bed and breakfast,” he boomed ahead of them. “Not to mention the best winemaker in France or England.”

“Humble?” Newt teased.

“I can still throw you into the air, boy,” his uncle growled back but offered, “Shall I prep a tasting?”

“No, we’re not staying long.”

“Where you going?” he asked as the dog bounded up the gravel drive of the house. The door unlocked and opened for them, the fireplace jumping to life.

“Germany.”

“Why there? The whole bloody country’s broke after the war. Muggle children play with blocks of money in the streets, it’s worthless.”

“Even wizard currency?” Tina wondered.

Harold turned back from where he had been preparing a pot of tea and decanter of whiskey to shake her hand. “Sorry, name’s Harold. And the magic folk are doing all right, but can’t say they're not bitter. Guard yourself, Newt. Charlie will have my head if something happens to you and she knows I saw you first. How’s your German?”

 _“Gut, aber nicht gut,”_ Newt considered.

Harold chuckled. “It’ll have to do. It’s hard to say whether they’ll hate you more for speaking English or French.”

The kettle screamed and he placed it on a folded cloth on the island, enchanting cups to place themselves on the bare wooden surface. “I’ll be getting back to pacing in the trees. Send out a patronus if you need anything, and remember the fireplace is a direct link to your folks’ place.”

He whistled sharply for the dog to follow, and the door shut soundly behind them. Credence felt the man’s presence in his absence; the crackling of the fire was now loud beside him.

“She’s a bonny one.”

Heads perked up, looking among each other but none of them had that accent—

“Hush. They’re Newton’s guezts.”

“I’m sorry,” Newt said. “I forgot their portrait was here.”

They gazed perplexedly at him until he pointed at the oil painting in the living room.

“She looks like you, b’fore our first bairn was born.”

“What? Newton, _chère,_ tilt uz so I may see for myzelf.”

With a look of embarrassment, he crossed the room and lifted the painting from the wall. The oil paint glistened in the firelight, but the elderly pair met the group’s stares. Newt’s great-grandmother wore spectacles not unlike Claude’s, but her Scottish husband resembled Harold in his stock and beard. “Oh…her curls are zofter than mine.”

Heads turned toward Queenie, who gaped blankly.

“Agh, nonsense. If ye bothered to cut yer hair, it’d bob up like tha’.”

“I can’t do that very well as a painting, now, can I?” his wife snapped.

“You’re going back on the wall,” Newt announced.

A sound of indignation erupted from both of them as a flurry of angry French halted his movements. Newt seemed to follow an order and held them in front of him, his embarrassment blooming tenfold.

“Oh, Newton… _merveilleux._ You’re zo handzome! But your hair—”

“Is our line going ginger?” her husband contrasted.

“You are ridiculous.”

“It’s an honest question!”

Newt’s cheeks puffed out as he exhaled and dropped them back onto their hook. Queenie giggled, “Never a boring day at the Scamanders’.”

“How do those paintings work, exactly?” Jacob wondered. “It’s not like…the person is actually in the canvas, right?”

Newt rejoined them at the island. “No, it’s merely…a reflection of their personalities. A unique magical mirror, of sorts.”

Jacob nodded in his way, as if he understood exactly nothing but was fine staying that way.

*******

“Morning,” Tina chimed.

Newt paused where he stood in the cottage entrance, the morning light splashing across the runner. “Good morning,” he said, shutting the door. His case was open on the welcome mat outside, airing itself out.

“I’m impressed. I half expected you to run off in the night again.”

He looked at her from under his brows as he settled himself on one of the chairs around the kitchen island. He sighed raggedly, “I’m the host this time.”

“Yes you are,” she uttered smugly, placing a cup of coffee before him. “The coffee’s delicious.”

“Thank you for making it,” he agreed, grimacing slightly at the acidity. Withdrawing his wand, he enchanted the glass bottle of milk to steam before diluting his cup. He sprinkled the tiny spoon from the golden sugar jar over the froth, like amber sparkles.

“Wow,” Tina said bluntly with raised brows.

“I enjoy the occasional embellishment,” he defended.

“I think you have a sweet tooth,” she retorted, but then calmly uttered, “Thanks for not leaving. I know you wanted to.”

Newt had raised his cup to his lips but it landed on the table once more. “I’m not going to run anymore,” he said tiredly.

“I only mean these dragons are your creatures,” she defended. “And last time your animals were in jeopardy, you didn’t rest until they were safe. So I understand, that’s all. It’s damn near admirable,” she finished with a sip of her coffee.

“Only nearly?” he taunted, drinking his own.

“What do you want, a chocolate frog card?”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”

Their mirth dimmed as they sipped their coffee and Tina inquired, “Bartholomew Kraus. What should I expect?”

Newt’s sigh blew the steam from his cup. “He’s not altogether evil, I suppose. Merely an opportunist.”

“New York’s full a’those,” Tina remarked. “They can be a different genre of evil.”

He could not help but smile at that, but it settled as he said seriously, “He’s one of the best dragon keepers I’ve ever seen.”

“What makes him so good?”

Newt tipped his head. “Apart from doing this for about three decades…he has the mentality of not backing down until a deed is finished. I’ve seen a dragon nearly tear his arm off and he did not stop.”

Tina frowned. “Sounds strong to a fault, then he’s just stupid.”

Newt stared at her and then laughed. “I’ve never thought if it that way.”

“Clearly he isn’t unstoppable if you were able to drug him to sleep.”

But Newt did not have a ready response, and their discourse faded to silence. “I’m not concerned by Kraus,” he murmured eventually.

Tina held his gaze. “I know.”

And that was all. The others rose and broke their fasts quickly. Harold emerged to brusquely hug Newt while his hound otherwise scratched at Newt’s closed case. The contents roared in response.

*******

Credence was not sure what to expect as they began the next leg of the journey on foot; he could say with certainty, though, that Burgundy was extraordinary in daylight. He was able to see now that the cottage was fashioned almost like a castle, as well as the distant neighbors’ abodes.

Their destination was more and more obscure by luncheon, however. Their path through vineyards and country roads curved into the forest. The only giveaway that they were on a logical route was the trodden path underfoot.

Eventually Newt stopped beside a tree, and walked a lap around it. Then he leaned over as if to examine the bark.

Mostly sure he had not gone mad, Credence ventured to his side and saw a yellow postbox of all things mounted to the tree. Though the paint was worn, letters spelling _Postes_ were embossed in the metal, and Newt was looking at what resembled a timetable on its side. “Eleven-thirty. We should be on time.”

“Yeah, quarter ‘til,” Jacob confirmed from the watch under his shirt cuffs. “Wait…”

“Everyone grab on,” Newt ordered. His own fingers curled into the envelope slot as he apologized, “I am sorry, I ought to have told you that magically populated areas render various muggle items useless. Your watch likely stopped working when you arrived at my parents’.”

Jacob did not have time to reply as they were wrenched high into the air, green and blue and yellow swirling together, but instead of kicking and scratching along tree branches, it was as if they were thrown directly into the sky. Credence gripped the postbox and his other hand found Newt’s coat as he looked around him. Queenie was smiling; the others clearly visible despite their environments not being so.

The landing was immediate, abrupt, and left Credence on his back and out of breath. The others were gone, replaced by towering stalks of wheat. Finding his feet was what he supposed being drunk must feel like, but in various states of equal disarray, he saw Jacob and Tina rise out of the field as well. Queenie was already dusting herself off and Newt was closest to him, standing with his back to them and his face to the sky.

Tossing the flap of his coat aside to check that his wand was still in his belt, he twisted to look back at them. “All right?”

“Where are we?”

Newt did not answer immediately. He scrutinized Credence and then reached forward to pluck several stalks of grass and wheat from his hair. “Western Front,” he answered.

The others were silent. Credence looked to Jacob, whose expression did not yield much until he voiced, “Didn’t think I’d be back here.”

“It’s…sunnier than I would have imagined,” Tina admitted as they began to wade through the field. Credence could not but agree: around the golden fields were green hills topped with trees.

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed with somber nostalgia. “The weather don’t stop for war.”

Queenie kept her arms over the stalks as she made her way over to him, and held his hand while they worked toward the edge of the field. 

“There’s no one here,” Credence voiced as they started trekking up the hill toward the trees.

“No, there wouldn’t be,” Jacob replied. They crested the hill and it sloped back down into a thicket of trees, this time underbrush pricking their legs and snagging on their trousers. “Newt, I’m countin’ on ya to know if I’m walking through something’s house before it attacks me, all right? Newt?”

Credence’s head turned, and he stopped. The trees ended and a thick fog began, so dense he could look behind him to see the golden spring morning but then look ahead into almost nocturnal obscurity. Newt was ahead of them, the fog lazily swirling around his legs and coat. Credence moved forward, and the deeper he entered in the fog, the more visible the vast green land in front of them was—

Newt grasped his wrist, stopping him. Credence gazed at him questioningly, but Newt silently lowered to the ground, his fingertips splaying in the cold vermillion grass…

Credence’s gaze jerked up as something burst in the distance…and then another. _Pop…pop…pop…_ as pillars of smoke stood from the ground.

“Mines,” Jacob realized. “Figures. Nobody wants to clean up after a war.”

“Be careful,” Newt seconded, standing and releasing Credence’s arm.

The warning was not to be taken lightly, for not only did they walk along abandoned trenches like scars in the earth, but Tina breathed, “God…this is No Man’s Land.”

Bundles of barbed wire coiled over the ground, perhaps originally running along a fence but now only posts stood up at fractured angles from the ground. Credence’s shoe struck with an audible ding on the ground, to which he looked down at a dented metal mug half buried; only its handle distinguished what it was.

Newt walked slowly past the remains of horses and dogs, mostly the former. In various states of abandonment, steeds had lain or been left sitting where they were; the occasional skull forever resting on a pile of sand bags.

Credence felt sick. He had not been old enough to enlist during the war, and now he felt ashamed to think back on all the nights he daydreamed about going off to war. Anything to get out of that house.

Every now and then Newt would touch the ground once more. Even rarer would a mine burst in the distance, too far for them to see where. Larger shadows emerged in the gloom. Tanks whose tracks or wheels immobilized them—

“Newt!” Tina called as Newt took off into the fog, vanishing in the haze.

“Where is he going?” Queenie exclaimed.

Tina grabbed Credence’s arm before he could go after him. “No. The last thing we’re doing is splitting up.”

She withdrew her wand and in the wake of its movement, the fog moved. It did not dissipate entirely, but it thinned enough to see Newt in the distance, crouching once more over the ground. But before him in the wall of fog was something large… _much_ larger than a tank.

As Credence approached Newt stood, and transferred his hand to the bone of the nose poking through the haze. With horrifying clarity, Credence realized he was looking at a face.

“Louis,” Newt whispered. “This is Louis.”

The dragon skull was black. Whether that was from the soot streaking across it or naturally, Credence did not know. The eye sockets were empty and relatively low to the ground compared to the vertebrae towering over the ribcage. In short, Credence could see the Scamander’s house easily fitting in place of the lungs, and the length of the creature was not even visible in this climate.

“How do you know?” he ventured, stepping forward beside Newt only to feel his throat constrict. Newt's eyes were glazed in tears, the mustard of his waistcoat already speckled with fallen drops.

“His nose hooked like this,” he said, his voice strong but coarse. “He was a rare mixed breed...and the strongest. He would have been sold first...I would know him anywhere. Even in death.”

The others caught up with them, Jacob’s jaw hanging. “I-I don’t understand. How would _this_ go unnoticed? How could they get away with sellin’em?”

“A mass obliviation,” Tina voiced. “Any behavioral disfiguration in no-majs could be easily passed off as brain trauma or traumatic stress.”

Newt’s hand slid along the skull, under the eye, as he moved along its body. Enough time had passed for the meat of the creature to be gone, so he stepped right into the ribcage. Newt’s hands found things Credence could not see. “They’ve taken everything. Leather. Heartstring. Meat. All of him. Everything of value.”

“Sheesh…” Jacob hissed.

Credence looked down at his feet, realizing… “It’s warm here. The ground is warm.”

Newt sniffled. “That’s his magic.”

Queenie’s hand silently covered her mouth, and Credence felt the backs of his eyes grow sore. He suddenly felt neck deep in a magic he did not understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La la la la happy Christmas (: And Hannukah's rolling now, so Chag Urim Sameach!
> 
> Time to be annoying about Net Neutrality because IT'S IMPORTANT. If you're not in the USA there are loads of petitions you can sign; if you're IN the usa there's loads more you can do. Do your research because if you're on this site, (or frankly, if you inhabit our modern digital-dependent world at all, which you do -.-) you need the internet. How many of your favorite writers are American? And if you think this issue is only in America, you're WRONG, because unfortunately America is a world power, and that means our dumb asses set the examples for the rest of the world to follow.
> 
> Don't be a bum. Fight for Net Neutrality.


	23. Shiny Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Bartholomew Kraus begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo boy, I've been wanting to write this chapter for a long damn time.

Sleep was difficult. Difficult in the sense that Credence felt like he did not quite deserve it.

They remained with the dragon’s remains for the rest of the day. He was able to see just how far the creature’s body stretched across the grass. It was terrifying and awe inspiring to think that there were more of these creatures somewhere, waiting for Newt. Or…not.

Sleep did eventually come although it was fleeting. Credence woke at dawn even though the fog outside the case never changed. Time of day was nigh impossible to discern as the warm droplets tingled on his cheeks. As he stood from is case he saw Tina, Queenie, and Jacob already up, standing in various spots around Louis as if sentinels…

Tina was nearest. When she heard his foot press over the grass, she lifted a finger to her lips. Newt was inside the ribs; Credence was not sure he had ever moved from there. His case was open at his feet but his head was bowed over his glowing wand. His shirtsleeves were rolled up while his outer layers were presumably in the case; Credence himself was warm, he could not imagine what Newt was feeling.

Suddenly the light from the end of Newt’s wand burst in a silent explosion, eclipsing Newt’s form before Credence was able to see the light dividing and spreading. It seeped into the ground and shot up the curved bones of ribs before it darted through the vertebrae—

The ground under Credence’s feet trembled. His knees buckled as he and Tina grabbed each other for balance. It was a testament to Louis’ height that it took them a long moment before they realized he was sinking into the earth. Like pieces unlocking, the chunks of vertebrae released the ribs so the dragon’s body opened around Newt instead of crushing into the ground. Lower and lower Louis sank, both the soil opening for him as well as Newt’s magic disintegrating his bones while something was emerging around Newt’s feet…

Long stems stood over the ground, lengthening while white and red unfurled like round handkerchiefs on the ends. Like needles rising out of the grass, poppies sprouted within the body of Louis; some blooms bowed and snapped back up as the ribs buried under them, until Louis was laid to rest, and a mosaic of poppies stood in his place.

Newt’s head slowly lifted and fell back, his lungs sighing as if he had been holding his breath. And slowly, gradually…the fog settled over the grass, fading and sinking until all that was left was dew on the flower petals in an otherwise mildly cloudy morning.

“I don’t mean to ruin the moment but…what just happened?” Jacob whispered. “Was this a funeral?”

Tina shook her head gently with a shrug of her shoulders, “Something old."

They silenced themselves as Newt turned to them. “I must ask that you get in my case. Apparition will go more smoothly that way.”

There was not much to say as they took their turns climbing into the case. Newt looked tired. The rest looked worried. Not even Tina made a stand to stay outside to apparate with him. Though they remained in the caravan, it was several minutes before the lid opened once more above them. “All right,” Newt announced simply.

Credence rose first, and a vastly different forest stood around them. Narrow but towering trees with the almost black bark stood around them. Instead of dense underbrush, boulders, matted pine needles and the rogue fern decorated the floor of the forest. As Credence stepped out, he looked around at what must have been a road. If it was paved, he could not tell under all the needles and leaves.

“Black forest,” Newt introduced, then corrected. “Sort of. Not really. It’s a forest, though.”

“Could ya be more specific?” Jacob requested.

“Somewhere between Cologne and Leipzig,” Newt provided.

“That’s…” Jacob shook his head, “not specific at all, but all right.”

“Newt. Are we lost?” Tina cornered.

“Not exactly,” he answered.

“Newt.”

“I know where we are, Tina,” he defended. “Geographically, speaking.”

“And how else would you be speaking?”

Newt’s grip on his case moved before he relinquished, “I don’t actually know where Kraus is. Theseus is trying but…when dragon keepers frequent illegal activity, paper trails have dead ends. I have to resort to looking for dragon terrain and other means.”

“Dragon terrain?” Queenie repeated.

“Cliffs, forests, rocky places,” Newt elaborated. “And mountains if necessary.”

Tina sighed, “Mountains would be the perfect place to hide them, but they could be literally anywhere.”

“Not necessarily,” Newt replied. To her narrow look he nodded at the clear area of forest they inhabited as a cluster of sounds drew his gaze elsewhere. Newt’s hand reached back for them, gesturing them to move to the side of the road. Credence saw why as a caravan much like the one in Newt’s case rattled it’s way into the forest from the curve in the road ahead. After a moment, Credence realized it was a caravan but it had been placed on top of the axis and engine of an automobile, so it came to them quickly but slowed as they passed.

 _“Guten Morgen,”_ Newt smiled.

The reception was stoic; sun baked faces with suspicious eyes scrutinizing them. The automobile hybrid slid past them and sped back up once the road was clear.

“Not the right batch,” Jacob commented to no one in particular.

“If they don’t wish to speak, we can’t make them,” Newt agreed.

Tina exclaimed quietly, “A gypsy road?”

“I believe they prefer to be called Romani,” Newt corrected gently. “No one knows the nooks and crannies better.”

Jacob considered, “Aren’t they…I mean they’re lovely. Great music. Even better food; they were great visitors during the war. No idea how they snuck in and out, but…their reputation ain’t the best.”

“We’ll do our best not to practice prejudice,” Newt revised, picking up his stride. “If any one does try a bit of thievery, I suppose Queenie and Tina will be the right judges thereafter.”

“Normally I’d need a permit and a lot of important signatures to be an auror here,” Tina grunted.

“Just consider it field work,” Newt chimed, hardly looking back.

The group was left to partake in whatever parcels of conversation they could create. At one point, Credence said, more to himself: “It smells good here.”

“Doesn’t it?” Queenie grinned.

Jacob laughed and voiced his agreement, “New York’s gonna be like breathin’ smoke after this.”

 _I’m not going back to New York,_ Credence thought involuntarily. It was the sort of sentiment which surprises its own creator, but it also resounded like an indisputable decision. Credence peeked at Queenie, who was watching him with a kind smile.

“But you’ll visit us, won’tcha? Between your epic adventures?” she whispered.

He smiled, embarrassed. “I don’t know…” His smile faded as he looked up at Newt walking ahead of them, his eyes leveled with the treetops.

Newt looked back when Tina remarked, “You know, I haven’t considered, but there’s gotta be dragons _not_ being managed by keepers, right? I keep forgetting we could be dealing with wild animals.”

“Bears, perhaps,” Newt said with some mirth. “Dragons quite like to be left to themselves.”

“We’re not writing bears off as a non-threat, right?” Jacob piped up.

Newt looked back at him with a slight smile. “Wolves are more common than bears here.”

“Oh. Fine, then,” he sassed.

“It’s okay, honey,” Queenie chimed, lacing her fingers around his elbow. “The last wolf attack for wizards or witches was in the fourteen hundreds. It’s werewolves ya gotta worry about.”

“Werewolves!” Jacob guffawed and then gulped, “Werewolves?”

“Misunderstood people,” Newt voiced.

“So they do the full moon thing?” Jacob asked.

“To be honest, I’ve only known one,” Newt admitted. “A lovely man in Italy. He taught me how to make risotto.”

“All right,” Tina admitted, while Newt slowed to a stop, his eyes somewhere on the treetops. “I have to ask. How did you meet a werewolf in Italy? Newt?”

She looked back as Newt was striding directly into the forest. Tina looked at Credence. “What did you do last time he ran into a forest?”

“Keep up,” he remarked, already running after him.

Credence momentarily realized he was stronger, physically, after months of working with Newt, however whatever trail Newt had caught onto, it was longer, and Credence felt him speeding faster ahead of him before he completely crashed into Newt’s backside.

A sound of panic escaped Credence as he simultaneously wrapped an arm around Newt and held his other hand out…so they hovered over the ground instead of landing on leaves, soil, and ferns.

“Well done,” Newt breathed, equally short of breath—

“Unf!” they both exclaimed as they finished the last few inches to the ground. Newt found his footing easily enough and helped Credence up with the warning, “Quietly now.”

 _What is it?_ he wanted to ask, but instead he followed Newt up a slope of densely growing trees. One or two scurries of creatures being disturbed drew Credence’s gaze around them, but Newt bound forward and gestured for Credence to follow quickly after him. He did, likewise crouched behind a boulder on the edge of a low clearing. Newt set his case down and moved a finger over his lips as he held Credence’s eyes and slowly stood to look over the rock…

The moment Credence’s eyes landed on it, he knew what he beheld, but he also needed a long moment to believe what he was seeing in the rocky crater below them. Black and all gawky angles apart from the curve of its spine, the dragon at first reminded Credence of a gargantuan bat. So dark were its largish scales that it seemed to absorb the very sunlight upon it; occasionally light glimmered over a scale or glittered along the smaller scales around its eyes and snout.

“Is that one you know?” Credence asked, glancing at Newt to find an excited crooked smile on his face.

“No!” he said in a hushed tone, raking a hand through his hair and peering around the rocky nook the dragon had made its home…and his smile faded. “No…no no no, this is not right. What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“What?” Credence worried.

“Dragons…” his head shook as if he could not believe something, “they live in colonies. A dragon alone is…a terrible thing.”

And then Newt did the maddening thing of sliding around the rock, exposing himself and leaving Credence behind. Credence’s saucer eyes peered over the stone, momentarily cursing Newt and reaching for his wand.

Newt whistled a slow tune the same moment Tina and the others emerged from the forest behind Credence, who quickly waved them over and returned to watching Newt. Jacob was silent with awe whereas Tina murmured incredulously, “How did he even _find_ this thing? It must be a mile from the road, at least!”

“Sh,” Queenie purred, “I’m listening.”

Newt was not far away. His steps were slow, waiting for the dragon to hear his whistle, and it did not take long. Its long wolfish head was tucked under a wing, scratching and biting at an unseen itch until it jerked up and screamed fire. Newt’s wand flicked up—

 _“Accio Newt!”_ Credence screeched in a whisper as a shield from Newt’s wand bloomed. Newt otherwise landed awkwardly in Credence’s lap, the opalescent shield guarding against the red and orange flames licking over them. Credence suspected if it were not for that barrier, they would have baked, although the thought was briefly erased by the softness of Newt’s hair on his jaw.

“Thank you,” Newt croaked when the stream finished. “This will take some time. Use my case.”

“Newt! Tell me what to do!” Credence exclaimed while Newt found his footing.

Newt glanced back only briefly, his eyes pulling toward the dragon. “Less is more, I’m afraid. We can’t all overwhelm it. Not to worry, I’ve done this plenty of times.”

The next stream of fire was thinner than before, and brief. Newt’s shield went up easily as he sat down on one of the ledges that made up the crater in which the dragon rested. When its stream of fire stopped, it shuffled to get a better angle of its intruder. Screeching and belching flames that licked up its snout, the dragon’s tail whipped left and right, slapping across the stone and grass. Newt paid it no mind, simply pulling his wooden flute from his robe and putting it to his lips.

The melody was gentle but cheery, the notes swooping and falling over their ears while the dragon otherwise moved about. Newt’s wand produced the shield for every attack, but the fire was dwindling as if the creature was tired, and this proved to be the case as it never came close to bite or snap at him.

“Oh…” Queenie sighed. “Yeah. We might as well go into the case.”

“Why? What’s he telling you?” Tina asked.

Queenie blinked, struggling to read Newt’s thoughts, clear though he tried to make them. “The dragon has to get use to him, and that…could take a while.”

“How long we talkin’?” Jacob wondered.

But her curls shook as she turned her head. “A long time. Days, he thinks…if we’re lucky.”

Jacob’s cheeks puffed out as he blew air. “Well. Yeah, I’ll be with Dougal. He likes the company.” Without further ado, he opened Newt’s case and lowered into it. “Let me know if, uh, I don’t know. Anythin’ happens.”

A few minutes later, Queenie joined him, but Tina and Credence remained outside. The morning flowed into the afternoon, but Newt only stopped playing to catch his breath, drink something from his interior pocket, and stroll as far as the dragon would let him around the crater. It made dealing with the hippogriffs look easy.

“Newt said dragons live in colonies,” Credence eventually voiced to Tina as they watched him venture to a lower tier of the crater. The dragon screeched in warning but did not rise off its great cuirass of a chest. Its wolfish head only lowered back onto the crossed elbow claws of its wings, scarlet eyes angrily on Newt. “That one living alone isn’t a good thing.”

“Did he say why?” Tina wondered.

“No, but he seemed concerned.”

“That makes me think the rest of the colony is somewhere and we’re about to be ambushed,” Tina voiced. “I wonder why he didn’t think of that?”

Credence considered that as he watched the dragon some more. “Newt also said…that dragons get as big as planes. Bigger. This one…”

“It’s not longer than a bus,” Tina agreed. “So this…this is a teenager? Did Newt happen to say if dragon parents stick around? Because I don’t want any of us to be here if its mother shows up.”

“Wouldn’t she have already appeared by now?” Credence doubted. “Maybe that’s why he’s worried. There’s no one here.”

Tina sighed, resigned. “I’d really like to know how he found it. He shot off like a Marlowe’s rocket.”

Credence looked at her. “A what?”

“It’s a sort of firework…from a shop for toys, pranks, and funny stuff in Manhattan.”

“Oh, like Zonko’s.”

“What?” she puzzled.

“It’s the joke shop in Hogsmeade,” Credence shrugged. “I passed it a few times.”

“Right,” she nodded wistfully. “I never asked how you liked Hogwarts.”

“It was all right,” he said distractedly. “School isn’t for me. I never went to a muggle school; I wouldn’t know what to do in a classroom anyways.”

Tina smiled softly. “Newt’s definitely a learning curve. I felt like I learned more from him in those first two days he was in New York than I ever did in school.”

“From what I’ve heard, you were kind of a grouch,” he remarked softly.

Her jaw dropped. “I was wasn’t wrong obeying the law! I just…yeah, all right, I was a grouch.”

She laughed, a little embarrassed, but he smiled at her and then looked back at Newt, who was setting up a small cauldron. Tapping the rim with his wand, it filled with steaming water from the bottom while he commanded various vegetables from his pockets to slice themselves. Tina frowned, “I should really talk to him about his pockets.”

The dragon’s head lifted when fire left Newt’s wand to tickle the cauldron’s belly. Sparks shot out of its nostrils when it huffed, but Newt said something in French which sounded like a scolding.

Tina’s eyes lifted to the sky and she realized, “It’s already dinner time. We’ll help the creatures and eat. Come on, I think…I think he actually knows what he’s doing,” she added when Credence visibly hesitated. After another moment of watching Newt cook his own dinner under the watchful—albeit tranquil—eyes of the dragon, Credence went inside.

Between the four of them, the creatures were well fed and satisfied, only the niffler, Charlotte, and Dougal raising a fuss at Newt’s absence. Credence rose out of the case but once to check on Newt, and saw a bonfire had been erected in the bed of the crater. Newt had managed to get close to the creature as he flung ropes of fire onto the pyre of branches and kindling, but no sooner was the fire crackling and consuming the bark then the dragon loudly crawled over. Its limbs heavily landed on the ground as it circled the pyre, barking at Newt to get out of the way, before it curled into a crescent around the warmth.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Newt ascended to where Credence stood, making a point to remain in sight of the dragon. “It’s progress,” he said tiredly. “I’ll need to sleep out here, though. A dragon’s liking of you fluctuates, but it is more consistent the more time you spend with them.”

“Do you want me to stay out here with you?”

Newt’s eyes glimmered from the firelight as he paused. “No, this is enough, his seeing you. Introducing you may come tomorrow.”

“I’m not afraid,” Credence insisted, causing Newt to smile.

“I never thought you were.” Newt looked around them and acquiesced, “We can sit here.”

Credence did, lowering with him onto the second tier of the rock and grass. “Why is it alone?” he asked.

Newt shook his head. “I don’t know, but he shouldn’t be. Dragons don’t do well alone.”

“How do you know?” Credence asked, watching the firelight dance along those freckles.

Newt’s gaze left him to land on the red eyes watching them. “Dragons are fierce in everything they do; happiness, anger, even boredom. There are only two cases a dragon may appear calm. Only one, truly, and it’s with music. It must be live music from instruments, they know the difference between a radio and a true voice.”

“And the other case?” Credence ventured.

Newt hesitated. “Sorrow. But even in this they feel it strongly. Sorrow…loneliness can mean the end for a dragon. To die of a broken heart is a very real threat to them.”

Credence was on the verge of asking how he knew that, but then thought better of it. “Tina thinks we’re a mile from the road. How did you know it was here?”

Newt looked at him with a tilt of his head. “The ground was warm around Louis, remember?” Credence nodded. “Have you noticed in the summer, you look down a street of New York and the end of it wavers, like a mirage?”

“Sure,” he nodded again.

“A dragon’s magic is, for lack of a better word, large. It actually extends far around them, and since heat rises, sometimes you can see the leaves of the treetops moving like that mirage.”

“That’s why you’re always looking up,” he realized, inducing Newt to laugh with some embarrassment.

“A habit, I admit. I suppose I’m always looking for dragons.”

Credence smiled wistfully, glancing at the one before them, alive and so so real. “If you don’t mind my asking…how do you know that they don’t like eating us?”

Newt’s laughter burst from him, breathy and free. “Thankfully their palettes do not agree with us, although some may not know it until their first taste. Dragon cubs biting someone for the first time is like feeding a lemon to a child. Also our clothing wrecks havoc for the bowels. I may guess this one has some similar experience for not outright attacking me.”

“They’re smart, then,” Credence evaluated, earning Newt’s silent contemplation.

“Oh yes. They never forget a thing.”

Credence’s eyes slid to him with a wry smile on his lips. “It’s like there’s a story behind everything you say.”

Newt’s eyes were on the pyre, but his attention seemed far away. “I’ve just been…carried away by life, and you don’t realize it until you look behind you.”

“I’m not interested in looking back.”

Newt’s eyes returned to him, searching, and a moment later softened. “No. The best days are always in front of us.”

“Did Dumbledore tell you that?” Credence guessed.

“No, my father,” Newt replied as he stood. “Dragons rise and fall with the sun, so I best be getting my rest. Uh, if you hear a commotion in the morning, try not to rush out of the case, everything will be under control.”

Credence had gotten to his feet but now he froze. “Explain.”

Newt looked down, smiling as if embarrassed. “It’s nothing, really. I intend to feed him in the morning.”

“Oh…” Credence exhaled, and then reconsidered, “It hasn’t eaten all day…why?”

“I’m not sure,” Newt admitted, “but I imagine its excitement tomorrow will be quite loud.”

*******

Loud was an understatement.

In Credence’s sleep he heard the creak of the meat shed opening and closing, but he was up the ladder and feeling the cold morning on his cheeks after the first scream. The depth of Newt’s case made it easy to forget how close they were to a large and underfed dragon, but its roars eliminated the elusion. The hippogriffs woke with a similar start, croaking their nervousness as Credence left them.

He met Tina and Jacob’s heads likewise peering out of his own case that sat next to Newt’s. Climbing out to better gaze around the boulder, he found Newt unceremoniously scorching huge blocks of meat while the dragon otherwise devoured as much and as fast as it could.

 _“Doucement, doucement,”_ Newt scolded gently, levitating the chunks so the creature had to slow down and chase its meal. As it pounced on a particularly large thigh, Newt crouched and made a sound of understanding. _“Ah..c’est ça.”_

“What is it?”

Newt perked up and did a double take between Credence standing beside him and the dragon who had not noticed. “Uh…its leg is injured. Its Achilles tendon, of sorts, is dislocated. A dragon’s body is ergonomically evolved, however one piece out of commission disrupts everything else. The legs are powerful at enabling it to jump into the air and better clear the treetops, but likewise help cushion the landing. Not that a dragon is to be underestimated on land, of course,” he added as he moved the rest of the meat once more to keep the dragon’s progress slow. “You can see how fast he is, regardless. I need to put it back in place. Can you get one of the herb bundles? The large ones.”

Credence assumed he meant the bundles as large as tree stumps. Silvery green and purple, he used his wand to help lift the mass out of Newt’s case and then Newt’s magic took it from him. “I’d suggest staying over there. I ought to wait another month before doing this, but…”

He lit a corner of the tied herbs and fanned the smoke around the dragon’s head. Its bites slowed, and eventually it resorted to resting on the ground while languidly licking juices. Newt crept behind it and cast an ice blast over the joint. The dragon reacted, trying to raise its head and yelling out, but Newt sent wind over the bundle and the dragon’s head settled back down. Newt cooled the joint for several minutes until the swelling went down, and without further ado, pushed the thick cord back into place.

The dragon roared fire into the air and dragged itself away from Newt, but not before he enchanted bandages from his pocket to wind around the joint and harden like the casing he had once put over Credence’s wand. Newt kept the bundle burning but not as strongly so it could continue eating in a calm state and not move its leg.

He met the others by the cases as Tina asked, “How long until he’s okay?”

“Oh, it shan’t be long,” Newt said casually. “Soon he’ll be his proper self and a proper nuisance.”

“Nuisance?” Jacob repeated. “You mean like a teenage reptile, right?”

Newt’s eyes shifted and he paused a little too long. “Yes, of course.”

Jacob and Queenie exchanged glances but it was a testament of their trust that no one questioned further.

*******

The next day, Newt assured them, “He’ll be following us from now on. My food stores are an easy meal for him, he won’t get too close but not too far either.”

“That’s nice,” Jacob agreed, albeit with some agitation. “So where to?”

“Leipzig, I think.”

Jacob frowned, “Leipzig? You sure? I thought your uncle said…”

“There’s a pub Kraus can’t help but visit,” Newt explained. “They’ll know where he is.”

Jacob chuckled, “Sure, ‘cause last time we went into a wizard’s pub, things went great.”

Newt ignored his sarcasm and nodded, “Yes, I thought so. The road will lead us there, however I won’t be joining you.”

Tina agreed, “I don’t wanna know how no-majs would react to him,” she eyed the dragon eating its second breakfast from Newt. “One problem, though. None of use speak German, except maybe Jacob.”

“I don’t think my German would be helpful,” the man in question laughed. “It’s all rude language and bawdy jokes I picked up.”

“You’d be surprised,” Newt remarked, but his eyes flicked to Queenie.

Tina, however, answered, “You can’t exploit my sister like that.”

“I don’t mind,” Queenie piped up.

“I have to stay with him,” Newt defended mildly, “and English should be just fine in the pub. I never had any problems.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” Queenie repeated. To Tina’s inquiring look, she smiled. “It’s not often I get free range on people’s heads.”

Credence laughed to himself while Newt smiled softly. “The pub isn’t ready for you.”

*******

It was easy enough to find with Newt’s instructions. The _Schwarze Biene_ was closer to the city outskirts than the center, but the area was bustling enough to make an alleyway and its fire escape an inconspicuous place for four people to climb. What looked like an abandoned attic was actually a rather full bar and restaurant despite it being lunchtime. Because of its place on top of a building, a good amount of light illuminated the space despite its dark furniture and rafters. For all its windows, it still looked like an enlarged attic.

Jacob ordered for them at the bar, and four plates of sausage, potatoes and sauerkraut, as well as another of salad came to them. Credence thought it was delicious, but felt the tugging of impatience to return to Newt.

_Where do we start?_

Queenie’s eyes jerked to him, and then her shoulders bobbed in a shrug before she returned to watching the wizards around them. Turns out, they did not need to initiate any discussions. A wizard with a witch on his arm leaned over from their table nearby to ask, “English, yes?”

“American, actually,” Queenie chimed softly.

The witch grinned merrily and Credence suddenly realized they were not a witch exactly. “May we sit with you? We haven’t spoken to Americans since the war, sadly. Americans are so lively!”

“Yeah, come on over!” Jacob smiled likewise, dusting off the bench beside him.

“Thank you so much!” she beamed as she slid in between him and Credence. The latter wondered if her voice was a little forced but she seemed nice enough, and she wore a matching iron band on her finger with the wizard.

“What brings you here?” he asked, “apart from the best _Wurst_ in the city?”

“A friend recommended it,” Jacob said. “A Bartholomew Kraus. Do ya know him?”

The couple glanced at each other but shook their heads, genuinely at a loss, but another couple behind them spoke up. “Kraus?” the man laughed. “Kraus has no friends. Kraus gives orders and gets into fights. No friends, though ‘suppose some people like that.”

The two men rotated on their bench to better partake in the conversation. The other man let his arm extend across the table behind his partner’s back. “Oh, no, you can’t be Kraus’s friends. Four beautiful people could never be Kraus’s friends.”

His eyes moved over them and landed on Credence only briefly as his partner remarked, “You don’t find Kraus attractive?”

He laughed. “Maybe in a rugged, boring way. I like that ruby he wears.”

“You just like shiny things.”

“I keep trying to get you to buy me something shiny but you’re stubborn.”

Credence saw the witch nudge her partner subtly, her hand fondly laying over his. Jacob chuckled. “Diamonds are still hard to come by, huh?”

“Sure, but diamonds are boring,” the man proclaimed. “Any old alchemist can make a diamond out of a spoon.”

“Easy for you to say,” his partner chided, but with a smile. “Maybe I haven’t bought you anything because you can just make it yourself.”

“You do alchemy?” Queenie wondered eagerly.

“I dabble,” he nodded, “but nothing like that Flamel fellow.”

“How do you know Kraus?” Tina asked. “You two aren’t so bad yourself since you know him.”

“Mm, well put,” he grinned while his partner responded, “He was just in here the other day. He only drinks one brand of fire whiskey, which our barman keeps by the barrel.”

“By the barrel?” Jacob laughed. “Didn’t know he came around so often.”

The witch’s husband was the one who said, “He’s not working in that dragon market east way, is he?”

The other pair exchanged looks. “Probably,” the man with his arm on the table said. “Illegally speaking, it’s the place to work if you’re interested in dragon wares. It’s so well known it’s almost legal.”

“Tolerated,” his partner corrected, “for now.”

“That sounds ominous,” Queenie teased.

“There’s been a tightening of government, as least where dragons are concerned,” he said as his partner lifted his arm off the table to unconsciously rub a hand on his shoulder. Credence found himself peeking around the pub to see if other unique couples were so casually affectionate. It was a nice change.

“The war made people realize how easy it was for a dragon to be seen by anyone, but lately other governments have been uniting with ours to settle dragon regulation, breeding, and what not.”

Jacob voiced, “Then Kraus’s business doesn’t sound like it’ll last long if the government’s gettin’ wise.”

“Oh, Kraus isn’t the sort to get arrested…for long,” the other man chuckled. “He’s resourceful and will work legally after a few bumps and scrapes with the new laws.”

“We see him so rarely,” Tina said, “I would have thought he traveled a bit more.”

“Romania is prime dragon territory, so I’ve heard,” the witch said as she fluffed her bob.

“But the money’s not there anymore,” her spouse said.

“Isn’t that ironic?” voiced the alchemist. “The money leaves the banks and goes into the dragons they’d been trying for decades to remove. They can’t move dragons into Germany fast enough now.”

Their discussion was paused by the barman coming over to collect empty glasses. “Everything good?” he asked curtly, picking up plates as well.

“Delicious, Franz, it’s not like you to ask,” the alchemist teased.

“Ought to ask now and then,” he returned as his hand knocked over a glass that landed on Credence’s plate. _“Entschuldigung,_ I’m sorry, my boy.”

Credence froze as several things slammed against each other in his mind. The barman’s words met an…unwanted tickle in his brain, which was only distracted from the rough and somewhat clammy hand on his nape. The touch was possibly meant as a comforting gesture, but Credence’s mind latched onto that strange sensation in his brain.

He could not say what made him do it, but his head rotated and found someone watching them from a distant table. Dark hair and an unfamiliar face, Credence did not know him, and a group of people entering the pub separated their contact. The hand left his nape, the dishes left the table, and Jacob was excusing them before they were outside once more.

Queenie lifted his arm to curve with her own as they strode down the street. “Something’s wrong,” he said.

“I know. Take a breath, and exhale when I say, okay?”

He nodded once and she said, “Now.”

They disapparated out of the city, appearing close to where they had left Newt. Sure enough, the young dragon was with him, albeit at a distance, kicking its foot as if to be rid of his cast. Newt jogged to them but let them speak first, especially silent once Tina asked, “What happened?”

“Someone tried to read Credence’s mind,” Queenie uttered.

Credence felt a warm hand take his, and looked up into the concern on Newt’s face. “Are you all right?”

His lips parted as he nodded. “It didn’t hurt. It was just…sudden.”

“I don’t think they got a good chance,” Queenie explained. Credence was glad Newt did not let go of him; the warmth of his hand melted away shivers of fear. “I think the barman was the one possessed.”

Credence whispered for Newt alone, “He said something.”

Newt looked at him while the others listened to Queenie. “He said something only Graves used to say. Grindelwald.”

Newt nodded silently, glanced at the others, and then gently pivoted his body so his voice was pointed elsewhere but Credence would hear him. “He may have done it out of curiosity, to see if it was truly you he was seeing. After all, he believed you died in the subway and now you're traveling as fast as he, but…if something like this happens again, tell one of us, all right?”

Credence nodded eagerly and voiced with relief, “You don’t think I’m crazy.”

“No, of course not,” Newt soothed. “I trust you. You’re one of the few people who knows him better than he would like. He has every reason to be interested in you.”

“You don’t think he’s following us, do you?” he worried.

Newt tried to smile consolingly but it did not quite work. “I don’t know. I don’t suppose you saw a man with white hair and eyes that don’t match?”

“No,” Credence shook his head. “The…feeling came from someone with dark curly hair.”

Newt nodded his understanding. “We can’t be lucky enough that he would travel as himself. Whether he is drinking potion to look like someone else or merely violating minds for reconnaissance, we cannot know. I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to inhabit two minds at once, like a chain of control so he was not there at all.”

“He would have heard us talking to the people about Kraus and dragons. About the dragon market to the east.”

Newt’s features cleared. “Grindelwald wants to expose the wizarding world…to do whatever it takes to ignite a war between muggles and wizards so that the wizards rule and don’t have to hide. Dragons would be an easy way to start that.”

“He was going to use me first,” Credence understood.

A more genuine, soft smile brightened Newt’s face. “He can’t do that anymore, though. Your magic is your own and so is your mind. If you experience anything like this again, you will tell one of us, won’t you?”

“That’s right,” Tina overheard behind them. They turned to realize the others had been listening. “We’re together in this. You’re not helping anybody by staying silent on this. We’re stronger together, that’s why Grindelwald’s followers are such a problem. The numbers matter.”

“Five is a powerful number,” Queenie sang happily, “at least in witchy numerology.”

Newt smiled. “My mother would agree.”

Credence did not know exactly what they meant but he felt reassured. He glanced back at the dragon pawing at Newt’s case and failing to open it. “We need to go.”

“Can’t keep Kraus waiting,” Newt agreed. The dragon roared at him when he approached but Newt remarked something in French before, “Surely even you can catch a stag. Shove off.”

Newt did not see the need to apparate and instead led the way, but as they delved once more into dense forest, the sky overhead soon foretold rain. They seemed to be on another Romani road as Tina asked, “What will this market be like?”

But Newt had frozen in place. Credence stood with him, silently reading an expression he had only seen on Newt’s face in the pensieve: fear.

Slowly, Newt rotated to look at the dragon stubbornly following a good ways behind. Credence realized it too had halted, but its head was raised high into the air, nostrils flared as it smelled something.

Newt took off through the trees again, the dragon easily following. Credence followed without a second thought, hearing Tina yell in the distance, “Speaking of communication, I’d love some!”

But this part of the forest was denser, with thicker underbrush. Newt ran with a frenzy he had never seen, and soon Credence was more in pace with Tina and the others—

Stepping into the clearing was like missing a step on a staircase. It was not a large space, but it was filled. It took a moment for Credence to register the small cluster of crates and an awning like it was a remote vendor’s stall, or a remote storage place way out here…

Newt’s steps were slow, and Credence felt the blood leave his face. He realized the pile of wooden storage housed meat. The smell hit him the same moment he realized it was not shabby wood he was seeing, but molding flesh hanging off meat hooks, and next to it all, was a dragon’s head almost as large as Louis’. But where Louis was dead and skinless, this one’s body extended far behind it, so far its tail and hind legs disappeared into the forest. The trees only parted to reveal a river in the distance, and around the dragon’s body was the only remotely new thing here: the glistening, shining bars of a cage.

And it was too small. The dragon’s limbs extended well outside of it; the thing only served to nail the creature to the ground. Eliminating movement entirely.

A rickety thud hit the ground, and Credence stared, dazed at Newt’s case falling over. The breath stopped in his throat. He’d never seen Newt drop his case before.

He stepped forward, but Tina grabbed his arm. He looked back at her, wondering why on earth she was restraining him, but her eyes were wide as she shook her head. Queenie was silently crying, both of her hands over her mouth as if this place was not deserving of sound.

Credence looked back to where Newt was still approaching the immobile creature. Jacob whispered behind him, “They…left it here? Left it staring at food…”

Credence realized the smaller dragon was next to them, reaching its head forward yet staying far away to smell the meat. It snorted sparks which bounced off the carcasses and wood. It was obvious enough: the meat was inedible. A cruel tease.

Newt made a sound.

Credence could not see his face as he faced the dragon, but his wand was in hand as he said a little louder, _“Colette?”_

The dragon was motionless. Newt’s shoulders began to rise and fall with his quick, panicked breathing as he stared between the half-open red eye on the left, and the white, blind eye on the right. Both were glossy and unmoving.

Newt’s wand flicked in his hand, held in reverse as the wood and carcasses moved as if something was climbing out of the pile. A blossom of fire roared out of it, alive and climbing to violently snatch at wood and bone, impatiently devouring everything. The heat and force of it pushed Credence back against the others, who were likewise collapsing to the earth.

Newt’s arm curved in the air, and the orange reflections in the metal bars melted as the cage evaporated into nothing. He stumbled forward, falling against the snout as his palm pressed against the scales around that garnet iris.

 _“You’re not dying in a cage,”_ he rasped, but his knees fully gave out beneath him and the roars of the fire drowned out his cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, dunno if you noticed, but this Expecto Draconis series has a part 3 called Something Wicked. It's a lovely, naughty long one-shot if you're interested in a vampire au~
> 
> Or, you know, if you need a distraction after this chapter...
> 
>  _Doucement, doucement,_ ~Slowly, slowly.  
>  _C'est ça,_ ~ It's that.  
>  _Schwarze Biene,_ ~ Black Bee.  
>  _Wurst,_ ~sausage.  
>  _Entschuldigung_ ~Excuse me/I'm sorry.


	24. Witch's Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kraus finds them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter will have a bit of a soundtrack lol
> 
> [C'est Si Bon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsPon0V1nyQ&list=RDYsPon0V1nyQ)
> 
> [Federkleid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyEt9-ebqyY)

Newt’s eyes opened. The chill of raindrop fingertips made him realize he had slept. It was difficult to tell what time of day it was, evening perhaps. The black smell of soot was behind him as the gentle rainfall pelted against the warm scales holding him up…

_Warm._

His shoulder blade tingled deep in his torso so the feeling played like fingers on piano keys along his ribcage. Newt looked up to see the large garnet eye a little wider than when he’d arrived. Then slowly, languidly, the glossy third eyelid slid over it in a blink.

*******

Credence wiped eye goop from Hector’s eyes when his head jerked toward the meat shed opening on its own. The skinned shoulder of an animal emerged from it and flew out of the caravan.

Following it out of the case, Credence saw Newt transfiguring a charred crate into a massive cauldron large enough to cook himself. The meat ground itself and mixed in with the water and the amber contents Newt was pouring into it. Credence took steps toward them and then paused, his eyes widening at the ruddy forked tongue licking its dry, scaly lips. “It’s alive?”

“Only just,” Newt said without looking up. A chair of all things sprang out of his wand and then Credence perplexedly watched him somehow pry the jaws open and place the chair beneath one nostril, and then conjured another to hold the other side open. The legs of the chairs creaked ominously, but held as Newt slid a long rubber tube inside its throat. Dropping the end into the cauldron, he wiped his forehead and tapped the rim with his wand for the bubbling slurry to rush into the dragon’s belly.

Newt rotated to face the creature, and began approaching its left, blind eye—

Its head began to slide over the dirt; Newt planted his hands against it. _“Non! Bouge pas! L’oeil doit partir, chérie.”_

Credence could only observe as a tall and wide mirror on clawed feet was conjured on the dragon’s other side. Tilting it this way and that, Newt found Colette’s eye, wide and dilating as he eliminated the chairs and her jaws snapped shut; the tube slid out of her throat to coil like a snake on the ground. As if satisfied with her view of him, she remained still as he held his wand between his teeth after making a smaller cauldron at his feet with a fire within. Then he slid his hands into the dragon’s eye socket, and turning his face away from the smell, pulled the orb out.

The sickly eye dangled from a cord of tissue as translucent grey goo slid out with it. Newt’s cheeks puffed when he sighed in disgust, but he reached back inside with his wand and severed the eye. It landed with a heavy, wet _splosh_ in the cauldron but Newt burned the inside of the socket as a spool of thread unwound from his pocket. The last to leave was the milky shield of the third eyelid before the socket was stitched shut.

Credence watched the cauldron dump itself onto the campfire that was now where the meat and crates had been. The cauldron dropped to its own demise in the fire while the younger dragon rounded the pyre to lick the remnants of Colette’s slurry. A low rumble, like the nundu’s purrs but deeper and sharper widened Credence’s eyes at Colette.

“Hush, _tu as besoin de tes compagnons,”_ Newt remarked as he hosed off his forearms and hands. 

“Newt.”

They turned to look at Tina scrubbing a hand over her face. “I’m fascinated by the whole, dragon sense-thing. But for the mundane of us, please explain.”

Newt pressed his lips together and ran his fingertips down his shirtfront. The buttons slid free and he folded the fabric off his shoulder to reveal the top corner of his scar. Tina’s doe eyes relaxed in shock. “How big is that?”

“Most of this side,” Newt gestured down his ribcage and then flipped the fabric back over his shoulder before his hand fell on his injured hip. “Courtesy of Colette, mostly.”

Tina stared at the dragon who was watching them in the mirror. “Mostly.”

“I suppose now would be the time to warn everyone that she’s possessive. _Alexandre! Laisse la tranquille!”_

Newt pitched fire from his wand and the younger dragon went bounding after it as it burst into wispy tentacles. Colette’s snarling lips settled back over her teeth. Tina shifted her weight as she processed. “So you’re able to feel when they’re nearby?”

“I’m not going to pretend I understand it,” Newt shook his head, buttoning his shirt back up. “I can only think she and Louis put their magic in me before I was taken from them. They were the largest in my care and could fight the longest against the aurors and keepers who came for the colony after I took them. I’ll remain thankful they didn’t accidentally kill me.”

“Be honest with me,” she asked, “once she gets better, will the rest of us be safe?” Newt’s head tilted slightly as he puzzled her words. “I mean, is she only going to tolerate _you_ for human company? She doesn’t have much of an incentive to trust humans she doesn’t know.”

Newt gave his characteristic smile. “Colette is smarter than most humans I’ve known. She was justified to never trust me when I met her, but her leadership over the colony saved me more than once. She may not like you, but there will be enough time while she heals for her to see you mean no harm.”

Jacob emerged from where he had been taking a walk in the forest. “This might be an unnecessary question, but how do ya know what to name ‘em? Gender, I mean.”

“Dragons are hermaphrodites,” Newt supplied. “They have both male and female reproductive organs. For instance…Colette has both laid and given eggs. Names are just…details. Whatever feels right.”

Jacob and Tina scrutinized the dragon with fresh eyes. Feeling like the conversation was at an end, Newt returned to her and enchanted the mirror to tilt and turn with his movements while he moved around her body. The rain lightened to a drizzle as he used his wand like a hose of fire to burn off clumps of dirt, dead foliage, and what looked strangely like a massive barnacle on a wing knuckle.

A higher pitched groan resonated from her when he ducked under a partially tucked wing. His voice could be heard purring French reassurances before he reemerged on the other side. He had to use magic to stretch her wings out as far as they could go in the restricted area. Conjuring a bed on top of barrels, he heaved her head up to rest over the mattress.

Apart from the occasional groans and snarls at Alexandre, Colette was remarkably abiding. Compared to the restless younger dragon, the massive creature was calm and observant, yet responsive. Newt fed her a slurry every hour, which drove Alexandre even wilder than he already was. Newt’s patience was endless with him, conjuring dozens rabbits made of fire to bounce around him.

At one point Credence listened to Queenie remark, “Alex is kind of like Mrs. Estitito’s cat, isn’t he? With scales.”

“That cat is maniacal,” Tina disagreed. “So far I’m only afraid of his fire and tail. Colette reminds me of that eagle that used to roost at Ilvermorny.”

“I dunno. They’re like wolves with wings and scales,” Jacob pitched in. “The stares on these guys…is that just me or do you feel it too? Like I ain’t nowhere near the top a’the food chain.”

Tina and Queenie synchronously nodded their agreement.

As night fell and the fire was the more dependable source of light, Credence approached Newt, who was already stirring the next slurry. Before he could say anything, Newt said, “I owe you an immense token of gratitude.”

“What?” he blurted.

Newt huffed a smile but his eyes settled on Credence. “We wouldn’t have gotten here in time if you had not insisted we leave France. You’ve saved her life.”

Credence was at a loss. “I just wanted to help you.”

Newt’s smile was soft. “You did. You’re always an immense help to me.”

He pivoted to begin attending to Colette, but Credence grimaced somewhat as he blurted, “Newt.” He turned back to Credence expectantly. “I didn’t do anything for the dragons. I wanted to stay with you.”

His words slowed, his nerves wanting to bite them back but he pushed them out. “I knew you wanted to leave, and I didn’t want you to think I would slow you down. Whatever your pace is, I’ll keep up. I’ll do anything.”

Newt absorbed this but defended with a touch of bashfulness, “I would never demand more than you’re able to do, though I do appreciate your commitment to my…unusual work habits.”

“No,” Credence shook his head. Newt’s features opened. “I mean…you’re not annoying to me. You’re not difficult, it’s the opposite. I…like. You.”

Newt blinked softly. “I like you too,” he said slightly like a question.

Credence suddenly rubbed his hands over his face and raked his hair off his face. “No, I mean I think you’re…”

“Beautiful!”

They startled at Queenie beside them. She gleefully rubbed Newt’s arm. “He thinks you’re _beautiful,_ honey. Okay.” She traipsed away.

Newt stared after her and then his eyes returned to Credence, wide. Credence nodded to the unasked question. “Oh!” he exclaimed in a breath, and even softer, “Oh…”

His gaze wandered with thought, inducing Credence to fear, “Is that wrong?”

“No,” Newt looked back at him. “It’s just, um…” His feet shuffled a little as he smiled as if embarrassed. “I am a bit…older…than you.”

“How much older?”

“I wasn’t born in this century, for instance,” Newt offered warily.

“How much older?” Credence pressed.

“I’m…” Newt’s gaze moved as if he needed to find his mental calendar and then his expression changed as if he had not been keeping track of the years. “Thirty. I’m thirty this year.”

Credence surprised him by sighing with relief and laughing gently. “Only ten years? That’s nothing compared to Charlotte and Claude.”

Newt smiled his agreement. “Perhaps, but they received their criticism too.”

“I don’t care,” Credence said easily.

But Newt smiled sadly. “You might.”

“I won’t.” He held Newt’s gaze as he said simply, “I won’t.”

Newt’s features settled into something soft and receptive, but he was silent. Credence realized with a horrible feeling, “Do you…not…like men?”

Newt’s brows lifted. “I don’t have a preference.”

Credence chest heaved. “Oh. Good.”

Newt smiled. “I’ll need a little bit of time.”

Credence nodded. “Okay. Until what?” he blurted.

Newt laughed a little and gestured to the massive creature behind him. “Um. I need to attend to Colette, and Alexandre won’t be ignored either. I don’t want you to think I’m ignoring you. Or refusing you.”

Credence nodded once before the last words hit him full force. His eyes widened as he gaped bluntly. “O-Okay.”

Newt held his gaze another moment and they both awkwardly rotated to go their separate ways. Credence only met Jacob and Tina once before he went into the case for the night. Jacob looked smug. “How you feelin’, pal?”

“How do normal people feel?” he countered.

Jacob and Tina looked at each other as they thought about it. “Sick,” the latter considered.

“A good sick,” Jacob tried to reiterate.

“Oh. I’m fine, then,” Credence murmured.

*******

Waking up the next morning was like waking to another dimension. The hippogriffs were not in their habitat when Credence rubbed his eyes, and when he saw them mingling with the trees outside, that was one question answered…but Colette and Alexandre were gone. The latter sometimes wandered but Colette was not so easily moveable…

A distant melody tickled his ear, and Credence looked toward the horizon of water between the trees. Colette’s head could be seen, but the towering spikes of her vertebrae were not behind her. As Credence neared the river, he realized Newt was standing on top of her, singing.

Colette waded in the water, her wings stretched to their longest across the water and beach. Her long body swayed with the slow wags of her tail. Her crimson eye sagged almost closed as Newt stood on her forehead with a rectangular broom, scrubbing over her brow bone and the slope between her eyes. Gripping the first small spike behind her head—small being as tall as his knees—he heaved and held himself steady as he moved the lavender soapsuds over her black scales.

_“En voyant notre mine ravie_

_“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient_

_“C’est si bon,"_ he crooned more to himself as he kicked off a large detached scale.

_“C’est si bon_

_“Ces petites sensations_

_“Ça vaut mieux qu’un million_

_“C’est tellement, tellement bon_

_“Mmm, c’est bon."_

He hosed soap off her body, humming as he moved down her long spine, the broom enchanting to scrub designs of soap on her scales. _“Mmm, c’est bon. Qu’est-ce que tu penses, Colette?”_ he crooned.

A groan emanated from her as she shifted under him, sending him tumbling into the water. Like an after thought, she lethargically turned her great neck so her head could look back at him. He emerged and gave her a look he usually reserved for the niffler.

Credence laughed as they met each other on the beach, Newt indignantly toeing his boots off as he enchanted things to dry. His mussed waves puffed back to life along with his shirt and trousers. “Where’s Alex?”

“Glaring at the hippogriffs, I expect,” Newt said. “I cast a barrier around them. Last I checked, Hector was thoroughly taunting poor Alexandre.”

“Can I help you make breakfast?”

Newt looked up and smiled. “Of course.”

Credence practiced enchanting objects while Newt made Colette’s slurry. Jacob and Queenie arrived to help him as Newt went to check on  
Alexandre and the hippogriffs with Tina.

“You’re good at hiding it,” she commended as he put out a smoldering tree.

He looked at her with an amused smile. “Hiding? Hiding what?”

“Newt.”

His façade dropped as he came nearly nose to nose with her. “Can he tell?”

“I don’t think so,” she considered as Newt wandered in a circle with his hands cradling his cheeks.

“When did this happen?” he uttered in a panicked voice.

“It’s not a new development,” she laughed gently. “You’re acting as if his liking you is strange.”

“Isn’t it?” he exclaimed.

“Oh, Newt, no,” she sighed. “It’s not strange at all. Why shouldn’t he like you? I might have, if things played out differently.”

He blinked dumbly. “Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll never know, huh? So do you like him back, at least?”

His hands were still holding his face, and as he gave that a second of thought, his eyes widened synchronously with his face reddening. Tina snorted softly. “Oh boy, you’re right in it.”

“What do I do?” he exclaimed quietly.

She frowned at him. “Have you never been with anyone before?”

“I have, but that was hardly anything like this,” he physically waved the matter aside.

Tina’s brows lifted. “Really? What was it like?”

He paced around, not looking at her. “It’s nothing to gossip about. I was lonely during the war and a group of Romani were kind to me.”

Tina processed that. “Weren’t you…you were quite young.”

“Not any younger than other people mucking about in school,” he disregarded.

“But that means it’s also been a long time for you,” Tina rearranged.

“Over ten years,” he admitted raggedly, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

“A group of Romani?” Tina reiterated.

Newt lowered his hand to gauge her meaning and then balked, “One! Just one of them!”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have any place to judge. What were they like?”

Newt sighed raggedly and then admitted in a stubborn voice, “He was forward and perfectly gentle.”

“Oh,” she nodded and then her smile turned wry. “I meant appearance-wise.”

He sent her a look. “Does this matter?”

She freed him from the topic and switched, “A ‘he’, huh? I guess I didn’t expect that after Leta.”

He looked puzzled. “Leta? Leta and I were never romantically involved.”

“Why’d you keep her picture for so long?” she countered. “I haven’t seen it lately in your suitcase.”

Newt did not have a ready answer for that. “Because…I don’t know. I was lonely, and I wanted to remember what it felt like to not be so.”

Tina hummed her understanding and then admitted, “I thought you loved her.”

Newt’s pacing had put his back to her as he paused. “I did,” he relinquished. “I didn’t know you could be in love and wrong simultaneously.”

“But Credence is not wrong,” she said as she came around his front. “He’s grown up really well.”

Newt could not help but smile. “He has, though I am not sure I’m right for him.”

“You need to stop selling yourself short,” Tina soothed with some mirth. “You’re about to be a published author, after all. You like him, and he likes you. Let the rest fall into place later,” she soothed.

Newt's demeanor calmed as if he was deciding upon something. "I want to do something for him."

Tina brightened. "Yeah?" but her gaze was torn to Queenie breaking through the trees.

“Newt! Kraus is coming!”

He peeked at Tina and they followed her back to the clearing. Credence and Jacob met them as he asked, “How far is he?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted and looked at Alexandre swinging his head toward a sound they could not hear. A low rumble was growing in Colette’s throat. “But I’m guessing he’s close.”

“Could you two help me?” he requested curtly, holstering his wand. He held his open palms out to them and they instantly mirrored him, touching palms together so they formed a circle. When they pulled their hands apart, a rush of air like a sound barrier flew silently away, like a barrier blooming and expanding around them.

It bounced off something in the distance, and several minutes later, a man emerged from that direction. Three men followed behind him, but remained in the tree line awaiting orders. Credence knew he was Kraus by the red stone in his ear, the roughly carved ruby length stretching his earlobe. His skin was warm while his looser curls hung around the occasional dreadlock. The corner of his jaw was pink with scar tissue but otherwise the man was rough in the eyes.

“I should’ve known,” he said in a faint German accent. “It’s been a long time, Mr. Scamander.”

Those hazel-green eyes flicked to the younger dragon pacing threateningly. “Are you collecting dragons again?”

A stream of fire cut off his words, but Kraus blocked it easily. With the fire out of the way, he looked past them to Colette still in the water. “Physical therapy? You’re still soft.”

“And you’re still cruel,” Newt replied gently. “I don’t suppose you still have the others?”

“From the colony you stole?” he remarked. “No. We sold them to the war or to private collectors. I don’t need to elaborate do I?”

“No,” Newt said, albeit bitterly. Credence peeked at him to see his eyes heavy and his jaw ticking. “Why did you keep Colette for so long?”

“We tried to sell her,” he assured. “Two collectors paid very well for her, but they didn’t like their other collectibles burning. Seems whatever enchantments they placed weren’t good enough. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

“No,” he shook his head once, but Kraus huffed without missing a beat.

“You and she were always odd. The big one too.”

“Louis,” Newt corrected.

“Fine, but you did strange magic on them and they were barely profitable afterwards.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Newt defended, more and more quietly. “I certainly never put them in cages for months.”

“Do you know what a cage her size would cost?” Kraus countered, but he did not expect an answer. “It’s good that you’re here. You can have her back. She’s too expensive.”

“And you get to see me arrested for illegal possession?” Newt retaliated.

Kraus laughed. “No, no. She’s no good to me. She’s a dead weight. You’ll get full rights to her.”

Credence peeked at Queenie leaning behind Newt. _“Ask him about the younger ones,”_ she whispered.

“You always had trouble with the oldest ones,” Newt settled, “and the little ones.”

Something in Kraus changed, but it was subtle: his lack of response. Newt continued, “Philip? Florenc? They were eggs when we parted but cubs when you took them back.”

Kraus grimaced strangely, like disgust mixed with humour and admiration. “You really named them all. I don’t know which was which.”

“You don’t have to. Where are they?”

The expression evaporated to a simple corner of his lip raised in discomfort. “You wouldn’t come to Germany for a simple visit. You really have the audacity to come back for them.”

“It’s not audacity so much as decency,” Newt smiled shyly but his gaze did not easily meet Kraus’s. “I don’t want a fight. I just want the ones I can get back.”

“I’m not giving you my whole stock,” he remarked.

“I’m not asking for them. Just the ones who were in my care,” Newt assured. When Kraus again hesitated Newt added warily. “Do I need to pay for them?”

Kraus huffed a laugh. “I’ve learned more about you and your family. A rich boy like you lasted better than I gave you credit for.”

Newt did not have a ready answer for that. Credence was tense beside him, his hand hanging beside his wand holster.

“But I cannot give them to you.”

Credence could hear Newt swallow. “Why not?”

Kraus’s coiled tension seemed to dissipate somewhat. “It’s all over the papers. Gellert Grindelwald and his lot are louder than ever. I may be an entrepreneur but I’m no terrorist. The dragons need to stay out of his hands.”

Newt stood straighter. “Has he contacted you for them?” 

“Not him directly,” Kraus admitted. “He’s got one of the German pureblood families doing tricks for him. They keep bothering me about them. They came to our market twice. She’s the largest so I moved her out here with the others but Rolf found someone tracking us.” Kraus glanced behind him at one of his men. “We had to lead them elsewhere. It took a few months.”

Credence felt old anger boil within him. He looked back at Colette, whose red eye was wide and bright on them. “What if you failed?” he heard himself say. “What if Grindelwald had her now?”

Kraus’s gaze moved to him without interest. “I told you, she’s useless. Doesn’t take long or a person of intelligence to figure that out. Even if they found her they would not have taken her.”

“But you’re saying you can’t trust Newt with his own colony,” Credence accused. “You left a dragon for anyone to find and sold them for a muggle war. How are you a better option to keep dragons out of the next war?”

Kraus visibly resented that. “When it comes to Grindelwald, no one is qualified, foreigner. You may be new to Europe but we’ve been weathering magical terror for a long while.”

“So have we,” Tina stood on Newt’s other side. “Grindelwald spent most of last year in New York City in disguise.”

“I heard about New York,” Kraus relinquished, “but his holiday abroad doesn’t interest me. Non-magical people don’t bother me, that’s why I’ll sell to their wars. If a magical sort gets the wrong sort of self-righteousness in their head…that I can’t abide by. I already know Scamander won’t join Grindelwald’s ranks. You’re both proud but in opposite directions. It would lessen our load to give you those dragons. My problem is how easily they could slip right out of your fingers.”

“It wasn’t easy last time,” Newt reminded darkly.

Kraus barked a laugh. “You’ve got me there. Took nearly two dozen aurors, not including your brother, and my whole team to subdue that colony. Had to give a piece of myself to get them back.”

That strange combination of admiration and disgust reemerged on Kraus’s face as he knocked his wand against his leg. The fabric revealed itself to be only hanging there, and a metallic thunk reached their ears. _“Ja,_ all of us almost burned. It’s a waste to give them to you.”

Newt was silent as Kraus’s gaze wandered back to Colette, and then onto Alexandre. The young dragon was visibly hostile, yet his snarls never escalated into an attack. “Then again, you and your strange magic would be a sort of revenge if he did get these dragons, defective as they’d be. I will give them to you.”

Newt perked up. “How many?”

“Patience,” Kraus retorted. “I only have one of yours left. We haven’t discussed payment—”

The man’s wand flicked high into the air the same moment his workers exclaimed as they flew backward into the forest, their own wands flying from their hands. The rough sounds of them hitting trees during their flight could be heard as Kraus angrily watched his wand for who had disarmed him.

It landed behind Credence, who had slipped his wand out of his holster but barely moved. The others stared at him as he uttered, “You can get your wand back when you bring the dragon.”

Kraus cursed in German but fear crossed his features when a large force shoved him backward and lifted him enough for his toes to scrap the dirt. “The dragon is Newt’s. He’s not paying you anything. Go get it.”

“Don’t forget the egg,” Queenie chimed sweetly. Kraus’s eyes widened at her but he knew when he was out of his depth. He turned and disappeared into the forest.

Alexandre screamed after them while Newt turned on his heel and went to Colette. Jacob elbowed Credence with a grin. “That was impressive.”

Credence smirked. “Just disarming and levitation.”

Newt’s hands were on Colette’s snout as he coaxed her out of the water. The process was slow and heavy, her great chest landing on the earth while she dragged herself halfway out before Newt helped her with his wand. Once her legs were out of the river, her wings folded themselves as her tail curled in a wide arc around Newt, scoring grooves in the bark of trees along the way. He spoke to her in French until her pupil narrowed on Kraus’s return.

Behind him, his team was struggling to lead a dragon slightly larger than Alexandre through the trees. A thick steel band was around its neck, from which several chained balls weighed its head down. It coughed fire, and Credence realized the collar had a curved piece that pressed into the dragon’s throat, limiting its ability to breathe and therefore exhale fire.

The keepers had a different matter entirely once they reached Alexandre, who made a good effort at burning two of the keepers to a crisp—

A low, strained croon came from Colette, silencing the chaos of the dragons. Newt’s wand moved, eliminating the collar from the restrained dragon. It eagerly loped into the clearing, but made no intention of stopping. Alexandre's injury had kept hidden how fast a dragon could move on land.

“Newt!” Tina cried as its path became clear.

But Colette rose with great force and snatched the dragon by the head in her maw, letting her weight slam the creature down before it reached Newt. The young dragon’s body dragged over the soil like a rag. Colette could have easily bitten down as if the head was no more than a walnut. Only when a similar whine emanated from the creature did Colette unlatch her jaws. The dragon shook its head while Newt maneuvered around it and clumsily caught what Kraus threw at him: a black egg textured like scales.

Puzzled, Newt looked between him and the egg. Kraus shrugged. “It never hatched. That’s all I have.”

Newt looked down at the egg. “Whose is it?”

“The big one’s, I think. The one you called Louis.”

Newt’s breath trembled as he held the egg tighter. “Thank you.”

“Keep it,” he declined, picking up his wand from the ground. “I haven’t forgotten you poisoning me.”

“I didn’t poison anybody,” Newt refuted tiredly.

“That’s how I see it, and if you’re nearby while I feel angry about it, you’d best clear out of Germany.”

Newt remained silent as the keepers left the clearing. The workers seemed relieved to be free of that particular charge. Even Newt gave it a wide berth as he came to show Colette the egg. The others were more comfortable than ever to stand near her.

“Which one is that?” Jacob ventured, looking at the new addition.

“Florenc,” Newt said. “I don’t think she remembers me.”

“You don’t say,” Jacob sassed mildly.

“Queenie, thank you,” Newt said.

“It’s no trouble,” she smiled. “Kraus is easy to read. Adéle was sold to a private collector last year, if you want.”

But Newt shook his head sadly. “Private collectors are rich and powerful enough to have a dragon without government interference. I’m not able to get her back.”

Queenie nodded her understanding and pulled him in for a hug. “Why do ya think this one hasn’t hatched?” she asked when they parted.

Newt’s fingers mapped the ridges of the scale texture as he shook his head. “The eggs need constant and intense heat, which is difficult for anyone but another dragon to give.”

He held it in view of Colette; whether her pupil dilated on him or the egg it was hard to say, but when he heaved her upper lip to reveal her teeth, her jaws opened just enough for him to tuck the egg between her tongue and gums. The air around them slowly but efficiently rose in temperature, but Newt still built another campfire beside her.

While Jacob and Queenie took the task of making lunch, Florenc proved even more troublesome than Alexandre. Alexandre was wild, but Florenc was angry. Newt enchanted his flute to play on its own, and then his violin too. It was mostly pleasant, having music playing in their camp, although her spontaneous attacks dampened the effect. The others did as much as they could but it became a better option for them to remain in one of the cases. Credence stubbornly remained with Newt, magically yanking him out of a line of fire more than once.

When they gathered for dinner he announced they would move camp in the morning. “Dark and early, so Florenc will be awake but not in full force,” he explained.

But when dawn arrived and Tina asked where they were going, none of them expected him to pull a tiny toy ship from his pocket. He engorged it so it landed with a deep bob over the river.

Alexandre and Florenc easily swam across; they even glided over most of the surface. Colette was another matter. Newt coached her back into the water, and one would think her sheer size would give her the advantage for crossing the river. However Newt engorged their ship further and adjusted the stern so that her head took up most of the deck and the whole craft threatened to sink. They made do, even better with her wagging tail pushing them through the water.

The next task was getting such a large creature through a densely grown forest. They simply couldn’t, so they sailed along until the river curved into a sandy bay sheltered by trees and rolling hills. Newt’s therapy for Colette continued. She was capable of small, constant movement of her tail and claws but her limbs took great surges of effort. The river’s depth aided this, buoying her weight so she could have her full range of motion without losing too much energy.

Her recovery was slow but certain. If Colette’s dominance over Florenc was not any indication, a couple days later Newt had made a barrier around some acres for the hippogriffs to wander. But Colette was done with slurries. Alexandre and Florenc stood glaring at the invisible wall, their tails, snouts, and fire bouncing off of it while Colette reared off the ground and snatched one of the largest brown hippogriffs. It did not have a chance to scream but the popping crunch of skull and neck were an uneasy consolation.

Queenie chirped a sound of exclamation, the others seeming mildly horrified. Credence looked at Newt, whose shock was already evolving into sad acceptance. The rest of the hippogriffs were storming into Newt’s case before the younger dragons could comprehend that Colette had broken the barrier for them. “Dragons do as they please,” was all he could say.

*******

Alexandre was snout-deep in a cauldron of slurry as Newt inspected his cast. A simple blast from his wand broke the porcelain-like binding, and Newt managed to stretch and flex the foot before Alexandre finished and kicked him off. Newt landed against Colette’s shoulder, collapsing onto the ground holding his chest. Credence ran over in time to see him cough blood onto his hand, but then Credence was knocked aside as Colette huddled over Newt and tore open his shirt with remarkable finesse apart from the initial jostling.

“Agh!”

“Newt?” Credence called, trying to get around Colette. One of her curved wing knuckles was hooked on Newt’s hip while she languidly licked his scar. It was suddenly apparent how he might have gotten his injuries. Newt was otherwise planted facedown until she released him.

Her head swung around the same moment laughter reached their ears. Credence stared bluntly at the small troupe of Romani standing near the trees. Newt, red faced and sweating, tried to crane his neck to see.

“How did they sneak up on us?” Tina hissed.

Jacob remarked, “They’re gyp-Romani. That’s what they do.”

The blond man with a ponytail and shaved sides of his scalp had laughed, and he now approached. _“Guten Tag. Wie ghets?”_

Florenc and Alexandre were threatening while Jacob approached, offering his hand. _“Wir ghets gut. Ich heiße Jacob Kowalski.”_

The man put a hand adorned with two elaborate rings on his chest. _“Oliver. Sprechen sie Deutsch?”_

Jacob wobbled his hand. _“Wenig.”_

He smiled his understanding and turned to wave someone over. _“Kat, du sprichst Englisch.”_

A curvaceous woman with dark hair held back by an aubergine strip of fabric came forward. “Hello. I’m Katja,” she gestured among her companions. “Oliver, of course, and then there’s Fiona, Stephen, Niel, and Rüdiger.”

The corresponding people smiled or nodded. Fiona was a tall blond, though lighter than Oliver’s wheat gold hair. Stephen waved a lanky arm, his messy hair framing his shaved jaw apart from his chin. Niel was similar to Stephen but more square and with a full scruff under his knot of dreadlocks. Rüdiger was shaved bald and stern looking, but his smile was kind as he bowed. A tattoo wound its way around his ear and down his neck.

Oliver said something, his eyes on Newt standing up and stumbling into Colette. “What’d he say?” Jacob asked.

Fiona was smiling too. “Just that the dragon likes him.”

“Oh, right. That’s Newt, this is Credence, and Queenie and Tina,” Jacob introduced. They came forward to meet the troupe, but Oliver strode forward and confronted Newt.

“Pleaz,” he smiled with a gesture to Newt’s shirt. Newt blinked at him while he moved to Newt’s backside, and lined up his torn collar and hem. His eyes flicked onto Newt’s scar but otherwise his hands jerked the fabric. It puffed as if he had simply given it a yank, the threads connected once more.

 _“Vielen Dank,”_ Newt said quietly.

 _“Bitte schön,”_ he responded. _“Sprechen mit einem französisch Akzent.”_ Newt’s brows lifted in perplexity as Oliver tested, _“Parlez français?”_

_“Ouais. Vous parlez le français et allemande mais pas l'anglais?”_

Oliver only smiled in confirmation, his eyes steadily on him. Credence stared at them, feeling something strange but unable to place it.

Katja picked up, “Between the six of us, we can go just about anywhere, but Fiona and I are the only good English speakers. The gents can piece some things together, but if you need something, it will be easier to come to myself or Fiona.”

Tina perked up. “That sounds like you're staying?”

Katja’s smile widened into a grin. “You are traveling too, yes? We rarely meet such kind dragon keepers. We like interesting company. We can help you navigate the area. It can’t be easy, hiding such a beautiful thing.”

“Here,” Oliver said to Newt, offering a glass bottle wrapped in metal decoration. The contents were clear but slightly blue in an unnatural way, as if it would glow were it not daylight.

Tina remarked, “You’re not gonna—” then she gaped at Newt sipping the contents.

He shuddered violently as the red faded in his face and he exhaled harshly with a hand on his front. Credence heard the creak of ribs bending back into place. He inhaled like it was a blast of arctic air. “I’d love the recipe for this,” his sigh fell into a laugh. Oliver chuckled too, understanding the sentiment of his words.

The strange decision to not like Oliver slammed into place in Credence’s mind, which he immediately faced with confusion. It did not seem right to despise someone who just healed Newt’s ribcage, but there it was.

The men left as Katja announced they were just moving their caravan over to their campsite. It was also like Newt’s but its wheels were not attached. The caravan swayed along smoothly while the wheels bounced over logs, stones, and uneven terrain. Bundles of flowers and herbs hung from it, as well as a thin coil of a snake on one of the beams making the side of the roof. It seemed entirely uninterested in them as it sunbathed.

“A grass snake?” Newt noticed immediately, coming over to gaze up at its dull green body.

“He just came along one day,” Fiona smiled beside him. “Would you like to come in? It’s bigger on the inside. We can fit all of us quite comfortably.”

“Thank you, but I’ll stay out here with her,” Newt refused, already pointing himself toward Colette.

“She’s taken with you,” Fiona commented.

Newt grinned shyly. “Just the opposite, I think.”

The arrival of the troupe infused their camp with an entirely new feeling. Their clothes were rustic fabrics but soft leathers. Their jewelry was silver or iron around gems and stones. Once the caravan was in place, the first thing they did was unload a variety of instruments. Queenie’s interest piqued, inciting the others to trust and converse with them. Fiona had a flute like Newt’s, and after Niel asked about his violin, proceeded to tune and reapply rosin on the bow strings. Tucking it under his chin, he pressed the strings for a quick and brief melody to test, but Florenc and Alexandre jerked up, their ears arched and attentive.

Oliver grinned over his shoulder at their reaction while he continued unpacking his own, larger instruments from their boxes. Rüdiger had a drum so large it had leather straps. Oliver handed Stephen a strange device with a crank, while Oliver himself tuned his harp and another strange device with a keys, yet it also had strings for a bow to saw across. His gaze lifted when Newt stood before him.

Credence did a double take from where he was stoking the campfire. Oliver had stood and was nodding along to what Newt said, smiling. Newt was speaking French. Newt had never spoken so much French to anyone, not even his family.

Oliver nodded again and put a hand on Newt’s arm. Credence blinked incredulously but Oliver was also calling Jacob over, who in turn called Queenie. Credence realized he was holding his breath and shook his head. He could practically hear a voice in his head sassing, _It’s wondrous isn’t it? What you can do when you…just…breathe._

Credence descended into his case and cast it to lock behind him so he could bathe. Taking a deep breath so he felt his lungs expand in his back, he tried to relax while he lounged in the small bathtub with a cloud raining over him. The tub never overflowed and the cloud never ran out of rain. These sort of tricks Newt or Queenie had showed him early on were nice. Calming, even. Credence sank against the porcelain so his chin was just submerged under the water.

 _Newt is allowed to have friends,_ Credence scolded himself. In short, he felt ridiculous. Oliver had showed kindness and generosity within his first steps into their camp. The others were no different.

But then Oliver’s easy way of touching Newt flashed in his mind and Credence felt…sad. Oliver touched him without hesitation. This friendship between him and Newt was only hours old, but it was immediate, and that bothered Credence.

Newt had asked for more time. Credence no longer knew what to make of that. Newt said he was not refusing him, but…Had Credence ever willingly touched Newt?

Credence blinked dumbly at the surface of the water. Surely he had. Of course he had, but now as he thought back…Newt was usually the one reaching for him. Credence felt heat in his face and chest. He wanted to reach for Newt. He wanted that easy way of touching him.

But Newt had asked for more time. Credence sighed, defeated. He would wait.

The evenings were getting warmer now, so after he dried himself, he found a clean shirt he buttoned most of the way and a waistcoat. He picked one of the newer trousers Queenie had pressed for him and emerged from his case feeling fresher and—

“Credence.”

He looked up as a plume of blue smoke and golden sparkles shot up from the campfire, in front of which stood Newt, Tina, Jacob, and Queenie, the latter holding his birthday cake. It now had a candle shaped like a ball set into the icing, the tiny flame flickering. “Happy birthday, honey!” she sang.

Credence could only gape while they surrounded him and Niel and Oliver began playing a merry tune. “Uh…”

“It’s late,” Tina admitted, “but it was Newt’s idea.”

“Oh,” Newt breathed from his place behind them, rubbing his hand behind his head. “Well. Um.”

Katja and Fiona arrived with low hanging necklaces of beads, pendants, and feathers. Credence stood frozen as they put one around his neck and both of them kissed his face. “Wonderful timing,” Fiona beamed.

“We’re delighted to celebrate you,” Katja agreed. They moved on to put their other necklaces on the others. The suctioned pop of a cork was heard as Rüdiger opened a barrel and started handing out glasses of red wine. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Credence held a glass in one hand as he stood next to Newt by the fire. Newt was laughing as he was the last to get a necklace thrown around him.

He turned to Credence with a mixture of merriment and apology. “I’m sorry. I asked them for ideas on how to do a—a bit of a late birthday for you and, well. It’s out of my hands now.”

“It’s okay,” Credence smiled softly.

“If it’s any consolation,” Newt supplied, “this is still relatively quiet compared to other wizard parties.”

“Really?” Credence’s smile grew. “This is quiet?”

Newt laughed, embarrassed as the music drowned out his last word. He had to lean forward to be heard, “We’re lacking the fireworks, canons, and a bard singer.”

At that moment, singing commenced, and Newt’s gaze met Credence’s. “Cross singing off the list.”

They laughed together, Newt pausing to sip his wine. Credence tried it but the taste was far too dry for him. Newt finished his and took it off his hands as they sat around the fire. Katja beat a tambourine against her palm, the music only slowing for her and Fiona to sing. Katja took the slightly lower parts while Fiona was the higher voice, but Credence realized Newt knew the song and was singing quietly with them. Gulping the last of Credence’s glass while Fiona’s voice reached a high pitch, Newt’s voice flowed with hers and then overlapped it in a high yell.

Credence's stare switched to Alexandre crying out much like Newt had. Tina’s mouth dropped and Jacob clapped his hands gleefully. When the chorus came back around, Jacob waved Newt to do it again, but this time joined him. Alexandre echoed their cry, followed by Florenc.

The musicians loved it, keeping the song going so Queenie could stand up and sing her note. Alexandre and Florence echoed her. Queenie sat back down, flushed and grinning as she nudged Tina, who hastily shook her head. Newt and Jacob were clapping their hands with the music, Newt singing along until he beckoned, “With me!”

Tina rolled her eyes and let out her cry, which Florenc returned while Alexandre blew fire into the air. Credence was watching Newt. From his place next to him, Credence could properly hear Newt’s voice, and it was lovely. But Newt’s head turned toward Colette, who watched silently by the trees.

No one induced Credence to try, and soon the song ended as Newt stood to return the glasses to the caravan. Credence watched him tread over the beach and turned back around to find Queenie waving him away. “Follow him!” she hissed, and outright pushed him off his log.

Credence had no idea what to say when he reached Newt, who was waving away the fresh glass Rüdiger was offering him. _“Nein, nein,_ please.”

“Two. Only two,” the man uttered.

“Two is my limit,” Newt grinned, and Credence realized he was drunk. Newt had never grinned so much and his face was shining and flushed. He pivoted and bumped into Credence. “Oh! Hello.”

“Hello,” Credence smiled softly.

Newt wiped his forehead on his sleeve as he held Credence’s gaze and then blinked his eyes shut as he sorted out his words. “Would you, erm. Walk with me? I think a walk would benefit me.”

Credence nodded. “Okay.”

They moved past Rüdiger and his barrels to walk along the water lapping over the coarse sand of the riverbank. The music was a little fainter over here and allowed them to speak more normally.

“Are you enjoying it?” Newt asked suddenly. Credence looked up to find Newt walking in that close way he had.

“Yes,” he answered.

He then wished he could have said more but Newt supplied, “I didn’t know…I wasn’t sure if this sort of—erm,” he looked behind him at the celebration around the campfire, “thing would be how you wanted to celebrate your birthday.”

Credence glanced over too. “I like it, I think. I never celebrated my birthday before, so…this is different.”

Newt laughed. “Yes! It is.”

Credence felt himself smiling at Newt’s giggles until he realized, “When is your birthday?”

Newt’s glassy eyes blinked back at him. “Mine? It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” Credence faced him.

Newt’s lips pressed together before he admitted, “It’s already passed.”

Credence processed that but they were barely a quarter into the year, and Credence had known Newt for all of it. “What? When?”

“Really, it doesn’t matter—” Newt tried to continue onward.

“It matters to me,” Credence repeated.

Newt sighed as if defeated. “The twenty-fourth of February. We were at Hogwarts. I didn’t want anyone fussing over me. Theseus came up and we went with Albus to the Hog’s Head for a drink, that’s all.”

Credence absorbed this, writing the date forever in his memory before he realized, “This is as much for you as it is me.”

“No,” Newt shook his head. “This is yours.” He smiled again but this one was strained. “Really, I don’t mind.”

His head dropped at the feeling of Credence lightly touching his fingers. Newt looked back up at him with hooded eyes as Credence said, “I would have wanted to be there. Don’t make it sound like you’re bothersome to celebrate. Birthdays are for others to celebrate you in their lives, that’s what you said.”

Newt smiled, his lips together. “I did,” he said thickly.

“Theseus said you used to sing,” Credence ventured.

“In school,” Newt relinquished. “I haven’t done much singing since my voice changed.”

“You sing for your dragons,” Credence deduced.

Newt looked as if he had been found out. “Yes, but dragons are not critical judges.”

“I think you sound nice.”

Newt ducked bashfully. “Thank you.” 

“You’re smiling more tonight.”

Newt sighed tiredly, “Ah, it’s the drink.” He giggled again. “What did you call it…witch’s drink. Changes how you act.” His fingers pushed on his lips. “Is it obnoxious?”

“No. I like it,” Credence assured, but Newt was staring at something on his face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Newt shook his head as his weight shifted. “Just curious: has anyone ever told you you have a lovely shaped mouth?”

Newt was very close, but no sooner were the words out of his mouth then his weight heaved in another direction as he tripped over the end of Colette’s tail. The dragon perked up, swinging her head around to see what had happened, and then turned back around, deeming it not worth her time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sigh. Newt, you sweet dolt.
> 
>  _Non! Bouge pas! L’oeil doit partir, chérie._ ~No! Don't move! The eye must go, darling.  
>  Hush, _tu as besoin de tes compagnons._ ~Hush, you need the friends/companionship/company.  
>  _Alexandre! Laisse la tranquille!_ ~Alexander! Leave her be!  
>  _Guten Tag. Wie ghets?_ ~Good day. How are you?  
>  _Wir ghets gut. Ich heiße Jacob Kowalski._ ~We're doing well. I am Jacob Kowalski.  
>  _Oliver. Sprechen sie Deutsch?_ ~ Oliver. Do you speak German?  
>  _Wenig._ ~Little.  
>  _Kat, du sprichst Englisch._ ~Kat, you speak English.  
>  _Vielen Dank._ ~Thank you very much.  
>  _Bitte schön. Sprechen mit einem französisch Akzent. Parlez français?_ ~You're welcome. You speak with a French accent. Do you speak French?  
>  _Ouais. Vous parlez le français allemande mais pas l'anglais?_ ~Yeah. You speak French and German but not English?


	25. Dragon Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Colette's strength grows, so does Credence's romantic bravery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my sweet freckly bean <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Here is [the song for this chapter~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLgM1QJ3S_I)

“It’s called a hurdy gurdy,” Fiona explained. “And that’s a nyckelharpa.”

Oliver sawed his bow over the violin-like strings while playing the keys in a brief tune. Stephen had keys of his own on his hurdy gurdy, which changed the notes resonating from the string the crank strummed against.

Colette’s head jerked up at the sounds, causing Newt—who was climbing onto her back—to slip and hang from one of the vertebrae spikes. “Whup!” he huffed before he regained his footing. Newt had taken on the task of acupuncture in her wings, but as her strength and mobility quickly returned, so did the difficulty to reach certain parts of her.

Since he had removed several scales that had been holding on with grime, he was able to tuck some needles along the part of her spine where her wings connected. However he seemed to find something as her wing flung open and her head curved around. Newt rolled down the membrane of her wing while she inspected what he was doing. When she leaned down to sniff him, he reached right into her mouth for a tooth and held on as her head lifted…and carried him right into the lake.

When Newt emerged, sopping, he enchanted himself to dry while he trotted down the ladder of his suitcase—

Colette, in a large burst of motion, surged out of the lake to follow him, but stopped as Newt’s hand popped out of the case, finger lifted in warning. “Absolutely not!”

Colette snorted sparks, which bounced off an invisible charm on his case. She sat there, waiting in disgruntlement.

Credence wore a silly grin on his face most of the time, occasionally pressing his lips together self-consciously. Colette’s tail had thoroughly ruined the moment, but Newt had finally managed to get a night’s sleep in his case. The luggage’s residents were overjoyed, and Credence had awoken to a covered tray within the flaps of his tent. Garlic and lemon broth with crunchy dark greens and vegetables warmed him through. A warm almond croissant wrapped in a napkin had him leaving the case with powdered sugar on his fingertips.

It had then been a shock to find Alexandre right outside of the case, his head hovering over the clasps so Credence’s hand knocked his snout. The dragon made a gruff sound and then a pink tongue that faded to black licked the spot Credence had touched. Those scarlet eyes landed on him and Credence had the unusual experience of an incredibly hot tongue tasting his hand.

Newt had appeared, shoving the dragon’s head aside and something amber rolled over the ground. “I’m sorry,” Newt apologized, another chunk of the material in his hand. “I have been giving Colette these blocks of sugar and salt, and Alexandre managed to get one. He now knows what sugar is.”

Newt extended his free hand to help Credence out of the case. Colette was right behind him, sniffing him and licking at the piece in his hand while Florenc was preoccupied with her own shard of salt.

Now, however, she eyed Credence as he warily maneuvered under her to follow Newt down. He was with the runespoors, who were uncharacteristically keeping to the shadows of their caverns, but their black tongues slithered out energetically, tasting the air.

“How do you know Colette won’t swallow the egg?” he asked, watching Pickett climbing across Newt’s shoulders.

“She doesn’t usually,” Newt admitted, “but even if she does, she will not digest it. It will come out the other end and the dung can be lit on fire for an incubation nest.”

“Oh,” Credence said bluntly with something of a grimace on his face. Newt peeked back at him with an understanding smile.

“The kings of creatures have their graceless habits too. Thank you for looking after my creatures in the mean time.”

They moved out of the habitat and Newt tidied Dougal’s nest while he slept on. “You don’t need to keep thanking me.”

He heard a sound of mirth while Newt collected the strands of hair Dougal had shed. “Far be it for me to let you spoil me with my gratitude.”

Credence went to the caravan so he could have the tall jar labeled _Dougal_ open and ready to hand to him. The contents were deceptive: silver hairs glistening in and out of visibility, seemingly floating because most of them were invisible. Credence returned the jar once Newt was finished with it, but as he leaned against the doorjamb and Newt remained outside of it to feed his sweeping evil, Credence looked around the caravan.

“Can I ask you something?”

Newt glanced at him, “Yes. Of course.”

“Tina and Queenie mentioned that you have a picture of someone in here.”

Newt’s eyes brightened and then he looked away with a jaded smile. “Of course they did.”

Credence lowered to one of the steps. “Of Leta Lestrange?”

Newt looked up at him, and for a moment, Credence thought he was leaving the case. Newt went past him into the caravan and reached under the counter. A small wooden frame emerged in his hand, which he handed to Credence. A black and white photograph of a young woman looked back at him, moving gently with her smile and dangling earrings.

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re asking now,” Newt admitted. “I was sure they would say something sooner or later.”

Credence gave a shrug as he looked at the woman who had changed Newt’s life. “It wasn’t my business, but…I guess since I had never seen it…I wondered if it was important to you.”

“Not as much anymore,” Newt said. Credence looked up at him and Newt added, “For a long time, actually.”

A glimpse of teeth emerged in Leta’s smile. “She’s pretty,” Credence admitted.

“Yes, she was,” Newt agreed and then, “or—she probably still is. I wouldn’t know.”

Credence felt…good by that. “You don’t write to her?”

“No,” Newt shook his head like the idea was just shy of ludicrous. “Not since school.”

“Then…” he could not help but ask, “why do you still have it?”

“She's a Lestrange,” Newt said, "and it's been fifteen years. It might be useful to recall what she looks like. Our lives have gone in vastly different directions.”

Newt gently took the picture from him and put it back under the counter the same moment a sharp growl was heard above them. Newt set his arm on the ladder and looked up into the annoyed garnet eye. It was hard to tell whether it was a growl or a purr vibrating in the air at them. Newt looked past Credence and held his hand out as the sweeping evil whooshed by him to be caught.

“And it is my path to be bossed around by a warm blooded reptile,” Newt remarked as he ascended the ladder. “Go on, then,” he sassed as he held onto a tooth and was yanked out of the case.

A smile curved Credence’s lips as he watched him go, but he pulled the frame back out for a moment. The photograph was slightly faded and the top of the frame was dusty. He put it back and ascended the ladder, satisfied.

Newt was removing the needles from her wings when he emerged, and it quickly became apparent throughout the day that Newt’s descent into the case or his going someplace she could not follow was the best way to keep her still. The Romani found Newt’s interaction with her highly amusing, and both Tina and Credence looked at them when Rüdiger said something and Oliver laughed.

“It’s nothing bad,” Fiona assured, and then Oliver pointed to one of his eyes as he said something.

Katja interpreted, “Her eye dilates when she looks at him. Eyes do that when you’re in love.”

Credence absorbed that while Oliver reached up from where he sat on the stoop of their caravan and made a soft hiss sound. The snake, so long asleep, now uncoiled and lowered right onto his waiting palm. Credence stared, the snake turning around his wrist while the rest of its body fell onto his thigh, those black eyes hardly breaking contact with his blue ones. Its tongue wiggled out, the head tilting as if in conversation.

Credence did not realize he was staring dumbly until those blue eyes flicked up at him. Katja was already watching him. “You have never heard…I do not know what the English term for it is.”

“Parseltongue,” Tina provided, but her tone seemed less than enthused.

“Talkin’ to snakes?” Jacob reiterated, and then loosely gestured to Queenie. “Oh, like, uh, you did at Ilvermorny.”

“It’s not the same,” she said quietly.

“How so?” he frowned.

Credence recognized when someone did not want to talk about something. “You said the snake just came along,” he intercepted.

“It did,” Fiona said, “but probably because it can talk to Oli. Snakes are solitary, but they like conversation.”

“That’s what he tells us,” Katja chortled.

Credence thought about the runespoors and how their behavior was different today, but his gaze pulled toward Alexandre and Florenc, who were loudly wrestling on the hill some distance away. “The dragons haven’t seemed to notice the snake.”

Katja laughed again as if something in his words was funny. “Dragons and snakes do not get along. They may not fight, but they certainly avoid one another.”

The conversation soon dispersed and Credence went to Newt, who was sitting against Colette’s snout writing in one of his journals. He looked up when Credence lowered beside him. “Didn't you tell me that runespoors were related to dragons?”

“Yes?” Newt inquired.

“Katja said snakes and dragons don’t mix well.”

Newt set his pen in the trench of his book, where Credence saw he was marking the acupuncture points on a sketch of Colette’s wing and spine. Newt seemed unperturbed. “Wings and fire don’t mix with a lot of things, especially if they’re landlocked.”

Credence hummed a sound of understanding and then said a little quieter, “Is parseltongue a bad thing?”

Newt blinked at him, his eyes soft. “No. A language cannot be bad. Why do you ask?”

“Oliver is able to talk to the snake,” he relayed, “and the reaction is…uneasy, I guess. Queenie didn’t seem to want them to know about Ilvermorny’s serpent or that she could talk to it. She said ‘it wasn’t the same thing.’”

Newt gave that some thought and considered, “It wasn’t. Neither she nor I are parselmouths. The horned serpent is a creature of incredible mental ability, and so was able to legilimens itself for communication. But just as the horned serpent is no ordinary snake, so too is it contrary to dragons, and dragons are not runespoors. They are strong individuals. It is a misconception for all reptiles to use parseltongue. As for the others’ reaction, parseltongue is…it doesn’t have the kindest reputation.”

“Because some snakes are poisonous?” Credence guessed.

“I suppose a number of reasons go into it,” Newt replied, “but snakes have been glorified as companions of dark wizards. For lack of a better example, Salazar Slytherin was a famed parselmouth, and…people either idolize or despise him.”

“Albus let me wear the sorting hat before we left,” Credence revealed. “It said I’d be in Slytherin.”

Newt brightened. “Really?”

The corners of Credence’s mouth turned up. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why should it?” Newt puzzled.

Credence shrugged, letting it go. “It also said I could be in Hufflepuff if I asked.”

“Obviously the better choice,” Newt switched with a smug grin. Credence barely kept his smile in check as Newt ranted, “Hufflepuff House is right next to the kitchens; you can eat whenever you want. It’s also near a statue that hides a tunnel to Hogsmeade.”

“Did you use it?” Credence asked with a wry smile.

Newt tilted his head as if he needed to consider whether or not he broke school rules. “Maybe once or twice.”

Credence laughed and Newt smiled, watching him until Credence voiced, “I’m surprised the dragons haven’t attacked Katja and the others.”

Newt’s lack of response made Credence’s focus return to him. “Romani have their methods.”

Credence’s brow furrowed at him. “You look like the others learning Oliver can talk to snakes.”

Newt was quiet for too long. So long that Credence felt heat behind him and turned to look at Colette with her eye trained on Newt and unmoving. Then Newt shook his head. “Romani are secretive for good reasons, and being nomadic in a land of dragons, it makes sense they would have protective charms against them.”

Credence’s features fell into a thoughtful and slightly worried expression. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

Newt smiled at him suddenly. “You’re with the person who seeks them out, not who hides from them.”

The day ended in a relaxed manner. Everyone seemed quite content recovering from the previous night’s festivities, but as another morning dawned over an overcast sky, Credence found himself sitting around the campfire with Jacob and the Goldsteins. Their forks scraped over pewter plates the Romani had loaned them, but fell silent when he asked, “How do wizards…continue their relationship?”

Jacob coughed on his eggs while Tina and Queenie glanced at each other. Tina asked, “Do you mean courting?” while her sister remarked, “Like sexual stuff?”

“What’s courting?” he asked.

“It’s like flirting,” Queenie supplied and added with a smile, “or seducing.”

Credence’s courage fluttered and he looked back down. “So...men...can...” he managed.

The ladies looked to Jacob first, who blurted, “Uh. Well, uh, yeah. No-maj’s don’ really talk about that kinda stuff, but I saw it plenty in the army. But it was war time so…there wasn’t much courtship to it.”

"It's much more commonplace in the wizarding world," Tina provided. "Madame Picquery's partner is actually a woman."

“I think he’s talkin’ about romance,” Queenie intercepted with a warm expression. “It’s all about makin’ your honey feel soft because of you. There are loads of things you can do.”

“Newt’s not conventional…” Credence reminded.

“I agree, remember that this is Newt Scamander we’re talking about,” Tina stated.

“I think ya might be surprised,” Queenie disagreed with a mischievous look at Credence. “Both of you have gotten the big things out of the way, so it’s the little things that help you along.”

“I don’t understand,” Credence said quietly.

“He’s already taken ya across the world and you came back to him after your first argument,” she elaborated.

Jacob acquiesced, “Yeah, that’s a biggie.”

Tina added, “And you take care of his creatures. For Newt, that’s huge.”

“Small things,” Queenie considered. “Small things...”

“I would say bake him something, but he’s the cook,” Jacob considered.

Credence blinked, thinking back to the breakfasts he found in his tent. Today’s was porridge with the sweetest strawberries from the case’s garden.

“Eating together!” Queenie chimed. “Newt’s so used to his own schedule. Holding hands?” she looked to her sister.

“Do you think Newt likes flowers?” Tina asked.

“Random kisses,” Queenie considered.

“I think they need to start kissing, first,” Tina remarked quietly. The sisters peeked at Credence, who appeared stressed and mildly terrified.

Jacob laughed, breaking the tension. “I may not be an expert, but I’ve seen enough of Newt to know he has a way of moving things along on his own. And when it comes to being with Newt, well, he’s the guy to ask.”

Credence blinked, feeling incredibly foolish. “I can just ask?”

Tina had crossed her knees and now stacked her chin on her hand and elbow. “Folks forget that, but…yeah. It’s actually good if you can talk to your partner.”

“Or have a giggle in the middle of—” Queenie began.

“They’re not there yet!” Tina hushed, just in time for the Romani to join them. Rüdiger took the Goldsteins’ plates and tossed them into the air for enchanted brushes to scrub them clean, but breakfast was far from over and blended straight into lunch. Wedges of cheese, grapes, olives, and steaming dumplings were set out on slabs of wood. Credence looked up to find Newt leaning against Colette’s neck, not particularly busy as he flipped through his notebook. He was rubbing the back of his head when Credence approached. He turned around at the sound of his name.

“Would you eat with us?”

Newt blinked, puzzled. His eyes moved between Credence and the gathering at the fire. His lips parted, but he hesitated, and then his features warmed. “All right.”

The moment Newt sat down, a platter of something wrapped in leaves and cheese slices was handed to him. Credence observed how the Romani silently summoned jars of pepper or basil to their hands before passing to the next person. It was not until Jacob went for second helpings and lifted off his seat for the pepper that a strange silence resonated around the fire. Jacob peered around him, and then at the jar in his hand.

Fiona giggled, breaking the tension. “It’s all right. Niel and Stephen do not have magic either.”

The two men in question were looking up with full mouths, oblivious to the discussion at hand apart from their names. Rüdiger murmured to them an explanation; Niel simply went back to eating while Stephen nodded, unbothered. Then Rüdiger said gruffly, “Scheiße parents.”

Tina frowned. “What does that mean?”

Katja answered, “We’re black sheep,” and was quickly followed by Fiona, “Both of their parents have magic and were disappointed to have sons without it.”

Katja continued, “Our kind is already distrustful, but they were unlucky to be born in a group of people who were all wizards. Oliver was the first wizard in three centuries in his group, so they had forgotten magic. Fiona, Rüdiger, and I were in a mixed group and we got along fine. The separation between peoples is like national borders. It’s an illusion.”

Credence felt the sweetness of grapes across his tongue as he processed that. Tina and Jacob were nodding slightly, inducing him to say to Newt quietly, “A lot of magical people think the barrier between magical and nonmagical people is wrong.”

Newt perked up from his tomatoes and cheese, waiting for Credence to elaborate. “I mean, it seems that people agree with Grindelwald to some extent. That they want the division gone or don’t agree with it.”

Tina, who was sitting close enough to hear, voiced, “Our communities are separated for our safety, but also no-majs’ safety. Wizards and witches have intervened many times to protect no-majs, but suspicion and distrust on both sides have made honesty between us a bad option.”

Newt picked up softly, “It’s not that anyone particularly dislikes muggles. However, Grindelwald does. We may agree that the barrier is not ideal, but his methods in being rid of it are cruel and unfair.”

“Grindelwald?” Katja overheard. “Who is that?”

Credence absorbed the curious and blank looks on their faces. Jacob remarked, “You don’t know who he is? I’m new to magic and I know who he is.”

“We are quite removed from society,” Fiona supplied. “We tend to avoid cities. Is he a celebrity of some kind?”

Small, amused smiles adorned the Goldsteins’ faces while Newt smiled shyly. “No, he works in government.”

Rüdiger moaned gruffly with an energetic shake of his head. “Scheiße.”

Newt laughed. “I can’t but agree.”

*******

The next morning, Credence made a point to wake up before Newt, which was far easier said than done. The suitcase was much as it always was, but he climbed into a world still dark before dawn. A storm was coming, casting the dawn light into obscure blues and greys. A kettle was beginning to scream over the fire, but before Newt could levitate it over his cup, Credence pulled the handle and poured while he walked to where Newt stood among the reclining dragons.

Florenc was growling in her sleep, the last fits of dreams making her twitch ominously while Alexandre rolled with a great flop of wings and tail. Colette was otherwise much as she had been, only now she propped her wings on the ground to arch her neck high over Newt, who held a small bundle of something burning. A thin silver line of smoke danced into the air as she sniffed it.

Newt turned suddenly at the sound of Credence turning a spoon of sugar against the cup, but he uttered softly. “Thank you.”

“That’s not a sedative bundle,” Credence said as he handed the cup to him.

“It’s just jasmine,” Newt said. “Dragons are curious. Providing things to occupy them can be challenging but necessary. As for her, I’ve been trying to find ways to make her exercise.”

At that moment, her wings trembled and Newt flicked his wand to help her land slowly. A chunk of salt flew over to occupy her as he stretched one of her wings out. The tent under her was tall enough for them to stroll under easily. “Have you eaten?” Newt asked.

“Not yet.”

A smile teased Newt’s lips. “I have some things that are ripe. Can I make you something?”

“I’d like that,” Credence nodded. The ripe items were a melon and Newt’s lemon tree. He piled paper-thin slices of lemon on chunks of the melon, and with a sprinkle of sugar, the morsels sizzled as they roasted and dripped juices. The warm sweet and sour fruit was divine on Credence’s palette; their meal was only interrupted when Colette growled into the case. They moved their food outside by the fire, where the buttery smell of a baguette courtesy of Jacob and Queenie capped it off. Credence much preferred breaking his fast with Newt, and Newt likewise seemed more at ease eating with his companions.

The Romani were late risers, which was probably why their mornings and early afternoons were an endless meal. Niel and Stephen spoke German, making them able to communicate with Jacob and sometimes Queenie. Oliver was as partial as ever to Newt, who drew the snake into his journal while Oliver conversed in French. Credence watched them with some bristled warmth in his chest but it did not escalate further. In fact, he realized the way Newt looked at Oliver versus the way he looked at Credence was quite different. And he liked that a great deal.

It was the following morning when Oliver called up to Newt on Colette’s back. He was perched between her vertebrae spikes, humming to himself while she waded in the river. When Newt looked back at him on the shore, Credence asked Katja, “What is he saying?”

“He’s asking if you all have plans for Ostara,” she smiled.

“I don’t know what that is,” he admitted.

“It’s our holiday!” Katja exclaimed, and then relinquished, “I suppose, an _old_ holiday. Only some of us celebrate such things. It is the mark of the arrival of spring.”

“Not for another few weeks,” Fiona corrected, “but that’s why Oli’s asking. We will part ways before then.”

Katja disagreed, “Once it is warm and the green returns is when Ostara begins. Spring is here.”

Newt was climbing down over Colette’s nose, where he listened to Oliver before shaking his head. Oliver seemed disappointed and determined to convince him otherwise. It was Tina who remarked, “What are ya two talkin’ about?”

Oliver uttered, “Sing,” with a touch to Newt’s chest. He looked to Fiona as he fumbled for the English word. “Ah…together.”

“A duet,” she smiled. “He wants to duet with you.”

“I know,” Newt sighed, “but I haven’t sung anything properly since I was young.”

Oliver seemed to understand and refuted that. Fiona had to agree, “He’s right. You sang well enough to our songs before.”

“Singing together is hardly the same as singing alone,” Newt declined with a glance behind him at Colette’s tongue moving his trouser leg.

“Not alone,” Oliver corrected. “Together.”

Newt seemed at an impasse. Credence might have spoken up had it not been for his own curiosity at hearing Newt sing again, as well as the other musicians already moving to gather their instruments. Rüdiger found a flat drum which he set atop his thighs for his fingers to thump across while Niel handed Newt his violin. Instead of wielding the bow, however, he held it in the crook of his elbow as he sat near Oliver and his guitar. Oliver said something, which Newt seemed to think on before he nodded once. As Oliver held Newt’s gaze and nodded for them to start, Credence realized he had never actually seen Newt play anything other than his flute.

He plucked at the strings like Oliver did his guitar. Rüdiger’s percussion was soft behind them, and Credence glanced at Katja stepping on her tambourine gently. Stephen rubbed a brush against a wooden plank, the scrape also soft in the wake of Oliver and Newt’s melody…

Oliver sang first, his voice gentle for the introduction and then stronger in the next stanza. As the song built, Newt’s voice joined his for the last words of his sentences, creating emphasis and an almost breathy quality before they sang the chorus. Their words were French so Credence did not know what they meant, but Tina and Queenie’s eyes were soft, and Jacob was serene as Newt’s thumb beat against his violin before the music died down for him to sing.

Likewise, Oliver joined the last words of Newt’s sentences before the next chorus arrived, but it was a different site than Credence had ever seen. Newt was…awkward in society, which Credence could understand better than anyone. But here…his confidence was soft yet present. Credence thought back to Theseus asking him if Newt sang to his creatures, and he wondered now if Newt secretly did when he was alone in the case. His voice was strong for someone who had not sung since being expelled.

The bow slid over the strings now, crafting an elegant croon which was sad yet uplifting simultaneously. Credence’s gaze tore to Colette pulling herself out of the water to settle behind Newt, who played on. Oliver sang intermittently, repeating some bits of the chorus until the music faded again, and their voices took turns building a new part of the song. Newt took the song, his fingertips plucking his strings—

Oliver’s head rotated toward the dragon humming in a pitch that complimented Newt’s. It was not their duet any more as Newt’s words lifted in a visceral statement, his voice resonating before it swooped back down for the instruments to catch him. Credence realized his body was gently bobbing with the music as Newt sang bits of the chorus, his voice melodically crying out and echoed by Colette before the music tied itself into a pleasant finish.

Claps sounded with a loud sniff from Jacob. When heads turned toward him he wiped his eyes. “What’s uh matter? Who’s crying? What a mess.” He sniffed again and settled for nodding with his red eyes. “That was…that was great, Newt.”

Newt huffed a laugh with a bashful smile as he handed his violin back to Niel. Then he flicked his wand at Alexandre licking at his open case. “Don’t even think about it!”

Alexandre roared at him before Colette slapped him with her tail. Newt went about conjuring a large spider made of fire that would preoccupy Alexandre whereas Florenc was stretching her wings up a tree like a cat stretching, only this cat pulled down branches to sharpen her wings' claws. The magic of the music was fading and Newt was back to work.

Well. Nearly. Not long afterward, Oliver was playing his guitar again and the others surprised Newt and Goldsteins alike by popping champagne over their heads. Niel and Stephen struck up their own music alongside Oliver. Katja and Fiona emerged from their caravan enchanting poles and fabrics to erect themselves around the camp, decorating for a party while they were otherwise topless.

Credence blanched at the soft breasts bouncing under the shawls hanging from their necks, mostly covering their torsos but they were not bothered when the fabric moved. He gaped like a fish as he turned toward Tina or Newt for some hint as how to behave, but Tina seemed just as dumbfounded while Newt was caught in a fit of giggles, his fringe dripping champagne.

The Romani’s hands changed the tide of the afternoon and evening. Oliver eventually went entirely shirtless as well, a silver hoop adorning one of his nostrils for the festivities while he built the fire up and with special planks of wood that burned violet or turquoise. Whether it was his fire or the season or the drink, warmth rippled off of their bodies, filled their smiles, and it was not so strange to see so much skin anymore.

Rüdiger approached Credence as the sun was setting with a brass bowl hammered with designs and what looked like herbs within. Dropping a fragrant match over the contents, they began to smoke as he procured a fan of feathers as large as a hippogriff’s, which he used to waft the silver tendrils over him. “What is he doing?” he asked Katja, who had approached to place another string of beads over his shoulders.

“Cleansing you. You don’t celebrate with negative energies,” she smiled, “and our holidays are like fresh starts. You shouldn’t begin a new day with yesterday’s woes.”

Credence watched as Rüdiger circled him, washing him in sage, lavender, and rosemary before he did the same to Jacob and Queenie. Tina followed suit, and Newt was last, although he seemed the most comfortable with the ritual. Queenie was excited and Jacob curious; Tina seemed simply pleased to be given the courtesy of inclusion, but Newt stood with his head bowed, familiar. Colette leaned forward to sniff him, and then snorted when Rüdiger sent a wave of smoke her way, earning Newt’s laughter.

Dinner was a feast of breads on behalf of Jacob and Queenie, while the Romani again provided spiced meats and cheeses. Newt emerged from his case with baskets of harvested vegetables and fruit. Credence had never seen anything like this apart from his time with the Scamanders: individuals bringing what they could to create such a festival; merry laughter and conversation, even arguments that ended in silly games fueled by wine. It was an interesting site: watching grown men get so energetic about throwing beans into Coca Cola bottles or flicking cards to see who could catch them.

More magical games involved the talking cards, though the components had a mind of their own and soon rendered play impossible. Their comments on Newt’s mundane magic tricks were a source of great humour, though. Crinkling one into a ball which he threw at Jacob only to pull it flat from Credence’s ear made everyone laugh when the card barked, “Ohho! That’s very good, though the moment I get an earwax stain is the day I tear myself into teeth t’bite yer bloody nails off.”

“Touchy,” Newt scolded playfully, returning the card to its deck while the musicians settled around them, preparing another round of music. The first song was uplifting but still allowed for conversation around them, however by the end of it Jacob had asked Queenie to dance. The songs began to blend together, different people taking breaks from their instruments to dance as well.

Until a strong percussion beat a rhythm they felt in their chests. Oliver’s nyckelharpa added harmony while Katja and Fiona’s voices raised the song up with Stephen’s hurdy gurdy. The song was light and merry but all at once the men’s baritones joined, evoking gooseflesh across Credence’s skin…

He looked up at Newt, who had stood and was walking toward the fire. His strides seemed to move with the music as he…reached into the fire, scooping out flames onto his fingers. Beyond, Colette’s large eye watched him approach her. The other dragons were watching too. Turquoise and blazing orange danced in Newt’s hands, which he joined to blow fire over Colette’s nose. Her head jerked up while his arms moved in a high arc, his focus now on Florenc and Alexandre, who crouched and wiggled, ready to pounce. Newt, however, seemed to be gliding over the ground as he broke into a run with a glance back at Colette, a giddy smile on his face.

Alexandre and Florenc were completely shoved aside as Colette surged after him. He ran to the clear hills just outside the ring of their camp, where the dragons had room to…dance. Newt was dancing. Whirling around, he held his open hand out as if to catch Colette’s nose as he guided her in a wide circle. His other hand flung fire to move Alexandre and Florenc around him.

Credence had stood up before he knew he meant to. He could not say what bid him to do it, but he scooped flames from the fire as easily as Newt had, and took off over the sand and grass. The dragons moved so much around Newt, Credence had to leap over a tail but Newt’s face lit up from his concentration when Credence joined him.

Newt’s shirt was sagging from a day’s wear and sweat. His collar was open and the top buttons revealed his collarbones. Credence watched him manipulate the flames and build them up like he was holding malleable dough. He took Credence’s hands, sharing their fire, which he tossed high into the air, sending Florenc and Alexandre into flight.

Colette’s head lifted for one of the fireballs but she did not commit to reaching for it. Newt turned to her, uttering, _“I will have you flying again.”_

With Newt’s back to him, Credence could see the scar through his shirt, but not because of its fierce discoloration. It was glowing. A deep-resting whitish-blue that contrasted with the scarlet and crimsons.

Skipping backwards in rhythm to the music in the distance, Newt coaxed her down the hill with the command, “Credence, keep sending fire up to them! Keep them aloft!”

Credence did so, running with him but making sure Florenc and Alexandre stayed out of Colette’s way. The descent of the vast hills made it easier for Colette to move, but a rush of heat almost stopped Credence as Newt’s hand sent the gust under Colette’s wings while the other engorged his fire to entice her higher and higher. Her jaws snapped at the indigo and orange plume curling and rising higher and higher. Finally her elbows lifted off the ground for her wings to unfurl. The ground trembled from the force of her legs pushing at the earth. Newt was sweating and the strain was visible—

His gaze jerked to Credence, who moved beside him with an outstretched hand. His magic lifted Colette into the air, the heat buoying her so she slid naturally into the sky. Credence could only peek at Newt smiling and laughing gleefully at him before Newt pulled him down the hill lest they get knocked over by her tail.

Higher and higher the dragons rose, and further and further the wizards ran under them until Newt stopped and moved the great wave of heat and flame over. Credence watched the dragons glide into a circle high above them, following the tail of flame Newt poured into the sky as well as riding the gust of heat.

Colette was a vision consuming the sky, and when her body tilted to the side, her wing sliced through the dense clouds that were alight with magic and fire. Florenc and Alexandre angled themselves with her, creating a graceful spiral down to them. Their spiral was slow, and beautiful, and Newt was their center. Eventually Newt was able to reach up and touch her snout, and helped her land safely. The younger two landed around them while Colette’s wing and neck made a circle around Newt and Credence. Her tail slid over the grass in a great hush of sound.

The younger dragons rolled around in the perfume of grass and wildflowers before attacking each other in a wrestling match while Credence otherwise felt himself land in Newt’s arms. They were both sweaty and out of breath, but Newt was laughing and pulling out of the hug to hold his face and look at him. Newt was saying something. Newt was saying a lot but Credence could not really hear him. He had never seen Newt so happy.

“Can I kiss you?”

Newt’s features opened. “Sorry?”

Credence blinked, considering. Newt must have heard him. Or was he having hearing issues too? He did not seem disgusted yet. “Can I…um. I was told I could ask. I don’t really know what’s normal.”

Newt likewise blinked, slow to process. “About kissing?” He seemed to give that some thought. “It’s very considerate of you to ask. I had never been asked before. It just sort of…happened. I’d be very happy to kiss you, though I am not really in a state one might find pleasant for kissing,” he rambled with a laugh and a pluck at his damp shirt.

That was all Credence needed. Grasping the shirt, he yanked Newt forward and pressed his mouth to Newt’s. Credence had no idea what he was doing but he startled at the plush softness of Newt’s lips—soft enough to feel his teeth on the other side.

Credence jerked back. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

“You didn’t,” Newt uttered as if in a daze. And he licked his lips. Credence swallowed dryly. His touch must not have been so bad… “I just, um…well I’m almost ashamed to say we’re both clumsy at this.”

He laughed breathlessly, easing Credence’s worry. Tonight was a night of spontaneous actions because he kissed Newt again, trying to be gentler, and felt Newt’s lips move against his. He tried to mirror the pucker and tickle of Newt’s kiss, but when he failed and his eagerness got the better of him, he felt Newt’s hands cradle his head; the warm fingers sliding along his sweaty hairline as Newt carefully pulled him away.

“Perhaps…I should take the lead for this part?” he said quietly, huskily. Credence could only nod slightly as he felt Newt’s thumbs over his cheekbones and processed how close he was to him.

Newt’s gaze lowered to Credence’s lips as he tilted their heads for a better angle. Feeling Newt’s lips over his own was a bliss that sagged Credence’s eyelids firmly shut. Newt’s first kiss ended, and Credence could hear him taking a breath before he kissed him again. He felt the sigh across his cheek before Newt switched sides, slightly moving his lips over Credence’s in a sensual nuzzle.

Credence’s hands fumbled for something and found Newt’s bare wrists on either side of his head. Newt broke from him to say, “You can hold onto me.”

“Where?” Credence blurted.

Newt giggled, pushing their noses together. “Anywhere you like, really.”

As if in demonstration, his hands lowered to Credence’s chest, one of them sliding down his ribcage to find the bend of his waist. “Is this all right?”

Credence felt like lightning was dancing across his nerves but not from fear or discomfort. He worried only distantly if he was nodding stupidly before he was kissing Newt again. Newt found one of his hands and placed it on his own chest as the sound of their kiss was loud in his ears. Credence liked the sound, wanted to hear more of it. He liked feeling Newt through the thin fabric of his shirt and the warmth radiating from him as well as the drum beating inside him, rising to meet Credence’s palm.

Credence could feel himself learning Newt’s movement and reciprocating it, the kiss becoming natural and fluid. Stepping forward, his other arm went around Newt to find his back. He knew he had found his scar from the heat there, and accidentally broke their kiss. Newt’s eyelids were heavy but he did not seem bothered. “You can touch it,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Credence asked.

Newt shook his head, angling himself so his lips brushed over Credence’s. “Not tonight.”

Credence felt himself sigh against Newt as their lips easily found each other’s. Every kiss sent a tantalizing zing through Credence, so as he closed the distance between them and felt Newt against him, he realized how sensitive his groin was and immediately leaned back.

Newt surprised him with a breathy laugh. “It’s all right. That’s natural.”

“It doesn’t…I don’t want—um,” he struggled before he settled on the first one. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” Newt purred, and Credence’s eyes widened only to sag to half-mast as Newt kissed the end of his eyebrow, his temple, his hair. Credence felt Newt’s chest rise as he breathed in the smell of Credence’s hair. “It is a natural reaction to liking me very much. I’m flattered.”

He leaned back enough to touch his forehead to Credence’s. “And I like kissing you too.”

Credence knew a silly grin was on his face but he did not mind it as Newt was smiling back at him.

Newt’s gaze moved to his hand on Credence’s waist and Credence’s on his shoulder. “Would you dance with me? We’re practically in position already.”

Credence nodded, his eyes warm as their free hands closed around each other’s—

They both stepped, but their feet and bodies bumped into each other, and Newt was the one who tripped. He caught himself but Credence stared perplexedly at him, wondering if he had not stepped right, but he was sure…

Newt’s expression was one of embarrassment. “I—um. I should warn you, I’m not actually good at it.”

Credence’s brows lifted. “Really? But I’ve seen you do it before.”

“There’s a bit of cheating involved,” Newt grinned mischievously. Standing straight once more, Credence was puzzled until he felt a sort of velvety sensation through his arms and legs. A weightlessness flipped his stomach as he looked down to see them rising a little over the grass. He looked back up at Newt, laughing as Newt’s arm more firmly slid around his waist.

Whether Newt followed the music in the distance, it did not really matter. As they floated around the circle of Colette’s body, Credence kissed Newt as much as he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Bout damn time for some sweaty make-outs, am I right?
> 
> Okay so, I thought up the singing part of this chapter a long time ago (before it was announced that Leta Lestrange was engaged to Theseus for the next film) so if you want to listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbctNBlXBJc), you're welcome to, but the lyrics make it seem way too much like Newt would be singing about Leta. This is just the music and vibe I wanted for the song Newt sings, but you can of course imagine whatever song you like.
> 
> Oh. And Ostara is actually a thing. It is a Wiccan holiday on March 20-23 in the northern hemisphere.


	26. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The engagement with the last chapter was strangely low, so I'm suspecting AO3 may have not sent out emails for it? So if you start reading this like ........I'm lost, then you might be a chapter behind .-. I'm sorry about that! 
> 
> Also, YES I'VE SEEN THE TRAILER. AND YES I'VE ALREADY WATCHED THEORY VIDEOS ABOUT CREDENCE. No spoilers for folks who don't want them, just know that my fic is truckin' along and will hopefully be finished before NoVeMbEr hAhAhAhahasdfsfsfsdfsdf *freaking out, don't mind me*.

Credence awoke and emerged from his case in a groggy stumble. Tina and Queenie perked up from where they were breaking bread for lunch. “Well good morning to you too,” the former teased.

Credence smiled goofily as he accepted the orange wedge from her but she tilted her head at him. “You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m having trouble waking up,” he admitted, his finger weakly prying the rind from the orange flesh.

Rüdiger was passing by and guffawed. “Magic drunk!”

The Romani collectively laughed but Credence shared the Goldsteins’ puzzled expression. “Where’s Newt?”

Tina pointed to the hills. “Colette’s been sleeping since last night. The other dragons seem to be more somber too. Newt mentioned something about it being time for their rest, whatever that means.”

“He said once that they can sleep for a long time,” he recalled as he began striding from the camp. As he came around one of the clusters of trees gating their camp he realized how far they had flown. Running after Newt and dragons had gone much more quickly than walking there did this morning.

The hills cascaded down to a different part of the river, where Alexandre and Florenc were occupied. Colette was just where she had landed, her voice groaning audibly as Credence felt the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds on his backside. He came around Colette, who opened her eye to see him and shut it once more as Credence met Jacob.

“Hiya,” he greeted with a gesture to the sky. “I keep waiting for the sky to fall but maybe Colette pushed ‘em around, so who knows?”

Credence opened his mouth to ask where Newt was but the man himself apparated with a <i>pop!</i> in front of Colette’s head. He lifted his leg as if to step up onto her snout but clumsily let it fall when he realized Credence was there.

“Oh—good morning,” he rerouted to Credence, who saw a strange green fur in his hands. Credence eagerly stepped forward and Newt paused in front of him and they wavered in an awkward impasse. Credence’s smile faltered. It had been so easy to kiss him last night, what happened?

He felt Newt’s hand slide into the curve of his waist and then Newt’s lips on his cheekbone. “Are you all right?” he murmured, pulling back but not removing his hand. “You slept a while.”

“I still feel half asleep,” Credence smiled groggily. “Rüdiger said something about…magic drunk.”

Newt blinked and then nodded deeply with understanding. “Ah, magic can be exhausting. Last night was certainly bigger than what you’ve been practicing.”

“It sounds kinda like what I felt around Ilvermorny,” Jacob added. “Like my head was full a’somethin’”

“It should pass,” Newt promised, turning back to Colette and continuing up her snout. She groaned a high note that wandered down into a growling purr while he concentrated on the space of her forehead near the first of her horns.

“What are you doing?” he asked, walking with Jacob around the dragon.

“Decorating,” Newt smiled over his shoulder. Jacob rattled something that drew Credence’s attention to the paper bag in his hand.

“He’s been takin’ moss from trees all morning and planting stuff in it,” Jacob narrated. “You should see Florenc. She’s got snowdrops all over.”

Credence looked down at the two dragons on the riverbank and the green and white splotches on one, and then green and pink on the other. He watched Newt situate the patch of moss and then he shook up a spray pump that was full of brown fluid hanging from his trouser pocket. Spritzing the moss, it latched onto Colette’s scales and grew several inches in all directions.

Newt twisted around and caught the bag Jacob threw at him. He used his wand to send the tiny black seeds into the moss, which sprouted into floppy green stalks with purple buds.

Newt climbed down and announced, “Some more meters of moss should do it. The rest will grow on its own while she sleeps and be a natural camouflage from passersby if for any reasons my enchantments fail.”

Colette vocalized a thought as he spoke, her pink tongue licking her lips to reach for the hand he put on her nose. Jacob asked, “Enchantments to hide ‘em? Are we goin’ somewhere?”

“Colette is due for a long rest and the others will likely join her. I thought you all might like to return to civilization in the mean time. See a little more of Europe, you know.”

“Queenie’d love Italy,” Jacob suggested. “We could meet that werewolf a’yours!”

Newt laughed as they began strolling to the forest for him to collect more moss. His hand fell into Credence’s, finding his wrist first with a simple reach back and then sliding his palm into place. Credence’s heart soared and flipped and sagged into a myriad of clumsy dances he was glad Queenie was not nearby to witness. He watched Newt and Jacob talking about whatever things and peeked down at his hand again. Ferns brushed against his trousers and he felt the damp bark against his other hand as they entered the forest and the moist aroma of woods and plants and rain filled his lungs.

_This is real._

He gasped slightly when Newt gave his hand a squeeze and let go to approach a tree with Pickett on his wrist. “All right, you. Go to work.”

A loud, bubbling, sing-song melody of chirps came from the happy bowtruckle as he climbed over the long patch of moss, carefully severing it from the bark. Newt employed Credence and Jacob to carry the various patches while he sorted through paper bags labeled with his scrawl: _Snowdrops, Galanthus. Lavender, Lavandula. Rhododendron_. His head jerked up as he looked in the direction of his case, but he shook away the idea.

“What?” Jacob observed as they returned to Colette.

“Nothing,” Newt said as he swooped his wand and the weight of the moss lifted off of them. It levitated behind him as he explained, “It would be nice if she could be an herbal garden but that will come later.”

Jacob laughed while Newt climbed further up her spine, setting moss and fertilizing it to grow along her spikes. “Dragons! Gardens! Wow.”

Credence smiled with him, observing how the lavender on her forehead was already a sort of crown. They heard Newt’s voice chatting with Pickett distantly as he moved along. Eventually he balanced himself down her tail and Jacob was talking about something but Credence’s gaze ducked to whatever Newt was doing to his shirt…

His fingertips pushed a sprig of lavender into one of the open holes of his white shirt before his hand brushed over the dark hair the breeze was fluttering over Credence’s eyes. Newt smiled softly at him, and then his eyes fell to his lips. Credence leaned forward, meeting him halfway as his own lids sagging closed against his kiss. Newt’s lips were just as soft and softer than he remembered—

“You’re not hearin’ a word I’m sayin’,” Jacob accused.

Credence startled a little but Newt’s smiled at him with the briefest press of his forehead. “I’m sorry, Jacob,” he turned back to him while he reached for Credence’s hand in that unconscious way he had; like he did not need to look to find Credence. “Let’s go eat something.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Jacob crooned, but he seemed far from bothered; more like amused.

The day passed in a fuzzy blur. Sunny and then not sunny. Yellow and then grey and blue. Orange moved across his eyelids and he vaguely knew it was the campfire but he could not feel its warmth anymore. A hand touched his shoulder. A rough laugh echoed in his ears. A pleasant, kind sound that must have been Queenie voiced, “Aw, sweetie, you’re asleep sitting up.”

“I’ve got him,” Newt’s soft voice followed. Traces of warmth moved over his arm, his back and leg as gravity tilted. Credence felt like he was falling, swaying, and then falling, falling… _falling_.

*******

Newt emerged from his case feeling fresh and happy. Queenie was the first person he met, though it was unusual for her to be up this early. “Good morning,” she purred. She was wrapped in a shawl loaned from either Fiona or Katja as she gazed over the river.

“Hello,” he smiled. “Can I make you something?” he asked with his kettle in hand.

“Tea would be nice,” she agreed with his thoughts. “Credence isn’t up yet?”

“No, then again he was exhausted yesterday,” Newt confirmed as he levitated the kettle over the fire and shook tea leaves from a canister into the water. “I worry he pushes himself to be up as early as me.”

“Why would you be worried?” she asked and then smiled. “Ya need to let folks do things for ya, honey.”

“Like make breakfast?” Tina’s voice interrupted as she emerged from Credence’s case and stretched. She scrubbed a hand over her face while she yawned. “You wouldn’t be hiding any coffee, would you?”

Newt and Queenie laughed and he said, “I reckon I have a bag somewhere.”

*******

_Steam touched his face. Cold. Credence frowned, blinking, and opening his eyes against the winter of New York. His bare nape prickled. His head jerked against the sensation as his hands held onto his elbows. His layers were many but did nothing against the cold._

_The gritty scrape of his shoes across the pavement was too familiar as he trudged forward, going anywhere and nowhere._ Anywhere but home,  _he thought, but this contrasted with an urgency to get there. An ache to flee and a panic to return, lest he risk her wrath._

Whose wrath?

_His head shook, confused and lost, as he forced his eyes open but he was not in a familiar place. Rather, different walls and roads pieced together into a foreign and familiar world around him. He passed the doors of a journalism building and then a storefront with shrunken, severed heads. Shadowy figures in trench coats and then dimly colored robes flickered around him, not seeing or touching him but oppressively near._

_He tried to look around but his head was heavy, unable to look up. He was lost, lost…lost._

*******

“Has anybody seen Credence?” Tina asked.

The Romani were finally awake, but Credence had yet to emerge from Newt’s case. Their puzzled expressions as they looked around the camp confirmed it. Newt stood from his seat by the fire, “I’ll go check on him.”

An occumy squawked a greeting as he descended into his case, and a short time later emerged just enough to look for Queenie. She startled as if someone had pinched her and rushed toward Newt’s case.

“What’s goin’ on?” Jacob worried, and followed when Tina became alert as well.

“He won’t wake,” Newt said quietly, controlled yet urgent as he led them to the tent in which Credence slept. “His heart is beating but I can’t wake him.”

Queenie swept into the tent and knelt beside the sleeping form. His comforter was partially thrown off from Newt’s efforts to shake him but Credence was lifeless apart from his deep, audible breathing. Queenie’s palm rested on his forehead, feeling his temperature as she lifted his eyelids. After a moment of hesitation, she moved her fingers closer to his temple, and closed her eyes.

Only to snap them open. “Oh…”

“What is it?” her sister demanded.

“He’s…I think he’s stuck.”

“Stuck?” Tina repeated. “In a dream?”

Queenie looked up at Newt but answered, “No.”

She held Newt’s gaze while Jacob asked, “Well what d’we do? Do you gotta…legilimens him out of it, or what? Newt?”

Despite his slim build, Newt heaved Credence up into his arms with relative ease. “I’m taking him outside,” he explained briefly.

“What? Why?” Tina remarked.

“I need my dragons,” he said ever more tersely. The moment he stepped onto his ladder, the case ejected him out and he disapparated toward the hills. Queenie held Jacob’s hand to follow him and Colette’s eye opened a little to see their goings on. Alexandre and Florenc had already settled around her in slumber; Florenc’s head nestled beside hers and Alexandre’s body followed the curve of her tail. Newt stepped into the circle of her body to gently set Credence down, his head resting on her tail.

“What are they going to do?” Tina continued though she did not step inside the circle. “They’re already asleep!”

“They may sleep but their magic doesn’t,” he curtailed, and it was his turn to look up at Queenie. “Can you do it?”

She shook her head slightly. “I shouldn’t. I mean—I’ve never done it before.”

“Explain out loud, please,” Jacob requested.

Queenie turned to him, “He’s stuck in a wizard’s nightmare. Or a witch’s trance. It’s when you sleep in a…a bundle of magic. He’s stuck in his own magic.”

“Ah huh,” Jacob nodded vaguely, his eyes moving between her and Newt. “And how do you get him outa his own magic, exactly?”

“We have to break his nightmare,” Newt finished and called, “Queenie.” She looked back at him. “Take me in with you.”

“NO, no, nope, absolutely not,” Tina refused. “There’s no way Queenie is going to be responsible for three minds—”

“Tina,” Newt said patiently, “I understand your concern, but this is Credence. He developed an obscurus that nearly destroyed Manhattan in a night. He can’t be left alone. I’m not going to let him suffer alone. He’s already been in there for hours.”

He met Queenie’s gaze. “Take me in, and help me find him. That’s all.”

Tina paced in a circle while Jacob’s weight shifted. “I don’t like this!” she announced.

“No, but,” Jacob sighed, “he’s got a point. What else can we do?”

Tina whirled around on her sister. “Do you know what the risks are?”

Queenie smiled painfully. “Yes, I do.”

Tina looked as if she had been slapped. Of course Queenie knew. Queenie was the only one who knew.

Tina lunged forward to hug her sister tightly, involuntarily thinking, _Come back._

Queenie nodded gently against her hair and went to kiss Jacob. “I love ya, honey.”

“I woulda preferred to hear that over wine and flowers,” he remarked, earning a nervous giggle from her. He shrugged. “But I love ya too. Course I do…but you already knew that.”

She nodded, humming her confirmation and kissed him again.

Newt was sitting beside Credence’s hip, holding his hand while she came to sit closer to his head. Draping her hand across his forehead and temple, she said, “I need you to be as open as possible. No French, please.”

“I’ll try,” he voiced.

“I don’t know where we’ll land…” she added.

He smiled softly, letting her see his fear…as well as his calm. “I know.”

“Okay,” she nodded, and closed her eyes.

*******

_There was a belt on the table._

_Credence stared at it. It might as well have been a cleaver or a gun or a wand._

Wand.

_He frowned, his eyes still heavy. What was a wand? His hands ached with bruises long since healed and sharp needle pricks. One of them reached for his thigh…finding nothing. He looked down at his hip. Nothing._

What am I looking for?

_He stumbled out of the room, if that was what you could call it. Familiar, old floorboards creaked under him and then his knees landed hard on uneven bricks. Cobblestones. He looked up at an abandoned, curving street. Medieval-styled signs jutted out from their storefronts, but their peeling painted and gilded letters were illegible to him._

_Credence looked beside him at the window display. Books were there, one of them with drawings he…recognized, but didn’t. The longer he stared, the blurrier they became, until he groggily turned back down the street, where an imposing marble building stood. Without moving his feet, he stood in front of it. Strange sounds came from it. The distance twittering of coins, hammers on gems, the creak of balancing scales, and something more…deeper and darker underneath that Credence stumbled away from._

*******

_Newt blinked around him, but seeing was difficult. Despite it being a mental realm, the air moving across his eyes felt real enough for his eyes to water. A warm hand grounded him as he looked at Queenie beside him._

_Newt looked around them at the clear, deserted nocturnal street of New York City. “Why are we here?” he asked softly._

_“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everything here is made by Credence. You know him better than all of us. Plus you already been lookin’ for creatures in New York before. I think there might be...bread crumbs to follow if ya know what I mean.”_

_“Yes, I do,” Newt said, his gaze elsewhere. Queenie walked with him to the front of Credence’s old house._

_Queenie looked down the street, puzzled. “This isn’t the street of the orphanage…”_

_“If Credence is afraid, I doubt any sort of map will work here,” Newt agreed._

_He began walking down the street but Queenie pulled him back. “Aren’tcha gonna go in?”_

_“I doubt Credence has been here long,” Newt said, and to prove it, he pushed the front door open. Inside was a blurry, unfinished room. The only clear part of it was the table directly in front of them, on which a black belt rested._

_Queenie abruptly pulled him back. Newt gazed at her while she recovered. “Sorry. It makes sense why there’d be so much hatred in there…”_

_He moved her hand into the bend of his elbow. “It’s all right. Hold onto me.”_

_She nodded, and they continued forth._

*******

_Credence looked at the mirages around him of people going about their lives. He blinked and he was alone. He blinked again and people were near him but not seeing him. He tried to reach out for one of them, but they were strangely distant or his hand passed right through them._

_Like he did not exist._

Is this what ghosts feel like? _he wondered. Present yet completely alone. Trapped. But he did not feel like a ghost. His palms and knees hurt when he fell. His eyes stung with tears and his chest thundered with panic._

*******

_“Newt?”_

_Queenie pulled him to a stop and he gazed at what her pointed finger indicated. New York had blended right into Diagon Alley and now she was pointing at a page of Newt’s book in a store window. It was his drawing of the sweeping evil, from the book he had sewn for Credence’s birthday._

_Newt looked at the next storefront and pulled Queenie to it. “Look,” he whispered. It was a cutting board with one of her strudels on it. Apple slices and flour littered around the finished pastry. Above it hung Jacob’s own apron, and in the shop across the street was almost a complete recreation of his parents’ kitchen, complete with his mother’s hanging herbs and his father’s copper pots._

_“He’s looking for us,” he realized, and then his eyes locked on something. He and Queenie approached the Gringotts steps, where a splintered piece of wood marred the otherwise perfect rendition of Diagon Alley._

_“Is that a wand?” she asked, and then she followed Newt’s gaze. “Oh…”_

_“Yes,” he breathed, looking down the alley whose floor was entirely splinters of wands. “I fear Credence has forgotten magic in his dream.”_

_“How could he forget?” Queenie worried as they gingerly stepped over the shards. “It’s a part of him.”_

_“The time he’s spent suppressing himself still outweighs his time with us,” Newt admitted._

_“I forget it hasn’t been that long…” she sighed._

_“That is no result of shortcomings of ours or his,” he consoled as they rounded a new corner of the dream. “Memories can be the darkest parts of ourselves.”_

_“Newt,” she hushed. “Do you feel that?”_

_He paused, waiting to experience what she meant. Then it reached his ears as they looked at each other. “Is that a street?” she wondered._

_“This whole place is made up of streets,” he disagreed. “Why would we be…this is the first time we’re hearing something_. _”_

_“Oh my god…Newt,” she cried, pointing at a shop’s glass door. Only, inside it was the view of another street, on which clouds vaguely shaped like people bustled around…Credence. Clear and precise, it was definitely Credence, only it was not. His hair was short again, shaved on his nape. His attire was black and pinching; not the loose white shirt he currently wore or the soft brown trousers that tied around the ankles Queenie had given him for sleep._

_Newt examined the door and gripped the knob. It was locked._

_*******_

_Credence startled, ducking his head against the rattle around him. Like thunder or the creak of a house, the world moved around him, making him feel small, insignificant._

_Movement jerked his gaze to his right, where a door with a large glass panel revealed two…people. Not mirages, not illusions. They were far clearer than the people and things around him—_

_His lashes lifted at the sound of a muffled voice. The man’s mouth was open, but Credence could not understand. Like the letters around him, the man was illegible._

_They looked…warm. The man wore a nice blue coat and dijon yellow waistcoat while the woman’s soft blond curls contrasted her amber eyes and rosy lips. They were warm while everything else was cold and grey._

_Credence’s fingertips touched the glass. Would it be warm too? But his fingertips were numb. He pressed his entire palm to the glass, trying to feel something._

*******

_Newt’s heart thundered in his chest as he watched Credence press his hand against the glass. His skin blanched white as if it was really pressing against something. Newt raised his hand—_

_“No!” Queenie exclaimed, catching his wrist. “You might…I don’t know. You might break something?”_

_“Nonsense,” Newt turned back to Credence. “This is only a dream.”_

*******

_Their muffled voices sounded urgent as the woman stopped him. They were talking. Credence wanted to know what they were saying. Even muffled, their voices were better than the noiseless buzz around him, the soft hiss of steam…_

_The man’s eyes landed on him, and he was talking again as his hand lifted toward the glass. “…onsense. This is only a dream.”_

_Credence blinked, puzzled as he watched those fingertips blanch against the glass…and then flush pink as they pushed through the clear membrane. Credence’s lungs suddenly ached as if he had been holding his breath or finally inhaled as those fingers slid over his, lacing their hands together._

_“Uhh!” he uttered when he was yanked forward, landing against the man’s warm torso._

_And it was warm. Everything was warm, even hot._

_Newt pulled Credence against him, exhaling against the solid weight landing against him. Queenie held onto him as he put his arm around Credence and_ felt his hair suddenly grow against his cheek. The fabric around him melted into the one layer he truly wore, and darkness fell around them.

*******

Credence’s eyes opened, and he felt confused. Both because he finally felt awake, but Queenie was gasping beside him as if she had been swimming. Tina was behind her, pulling her back while something was digging into his stomach…

Credence looked down and dazedly recognized Newt lying on him, unconscious. His shoulder was digging under Credence’s ribs, but his eyes blinked against the first sprinkles of rain. His confusion deepened as Colette stretched out a long wing, shielding them from the sky as well as pitching them into darkness.

It was a while before the orange glow of a rather old lantern illuminated the scaly cave, and Jacob appeared. “Heya. How ya feeling?”

“I…” Credence croaked. He cleared his throat. “What happened?”

“You fell into a ‘wizard nightmare’ or somethin’,” Jacob explained. “I don’t really know anything about it, but Queenie and Newt had to go in after ya. Queenie’s recovering, but she said Newt would probably sleep for a while.”

Newt had not moved, and neither had Credence from being his pillow. “Is Queenie okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she will be,” Jacob said, visibly worried. “She’s got like a kinda migraine right now, but she’s with Tina. Tina’s like her recharge brain, so she’ll be right as rain soon. Speakin’ of, you comfortable? You’re not wet, are ya?”

Rain pattered above them on Colette’s wing, some of it washing down her thigh and tail to dampen his shirt but he did not really mind, warm as she and Newt were. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” Jacob waved that aside. “Not like you chose anything. You just scared us. It was past lunchtime when we realized something was wrong, and it’s dinnertime now. Took ‘em a while to find you. That big brain a’yours,” he japed, but Credence could see Jacob was also recovering.

Jacob cleared his throat, “What, uh, what about you? Two people walkin’ around in your head, no headaches or nothing?”

“A little,” he admitted.

Jacob nodded. “Yeah…then again I think Queenie and Newt took the hits for ya. I brought some food and water and stuff, whenever you need it.”

Jacob’s hand touched a basket Credence had not noticed before. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, sure,” he smiled, standing to make his way back outside, but not before leaving the lantern behind. Credence now saw that it had two flames inside who were wrestling with each other: one orange and the other yellow while another, smaller blue one watched from the side of the glass, completely uninterested.

Credence reached for the lantern but could not reached it, then like an epiphany, he whispered the words, and only just managed to set the hot metal and glass down when it shot into his hand. Newt shifted on top of him, frowning briefly against the light. Credence carefully moved the hair off his face and saw the vein of his forehead pushing against his skin. Credence quickly moved the lantern to his other side, not wanting to wake him or make any pain worse.

It was a long time before Newt awoke. Credence had the time to listen to the rain and watch the firelight move over the scales around him. He did not dare let himself doze, nor did not want to, not with Newt lying on him. Credence had a long time to feel the way Newt breathed, to see how those freckles splashed across his skin; even the blondish stubble that finally started to dust his chin after a day or so.

His eyes moved under the lids and then his eyes slowly opened, glossy and warm as he found Credence’s face. His eyes fell closed briefly as he cleared his throat and croaked, huskily, “Hello.”

“How do you feel?” Credence asked warily. His hand had been fiddling with one of Newt’s buttons, which Newt now held to his chest as he rolled more so his back was on Credence’s chest.

“Dizzy,” he admitted. He looked up at him. “And you?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

Newt blinked at him dreamily. “Whatever for?”

“Because I caused you pain, and Queenie too. She’s been recovering.”

“Oh…” Newt exhaled, but far from bothered, he looked…tranquil.

“What?” Credence wondered.

Newt’s dazed look melted into a smile. “We’re all troublesome. It’s what happens when you tangle with other humans.”

Credence sighed with a mixture of relief, mirth, and a little shame. “You know what I mean.”

“Mmm…” Newt hummed as he turned his face against Credence’s chest. “It’s all right, really. To be honest, I wonder if I should have expected one of these dreams sooner. They are not common apart from…people who suffer incredible fear.”

He peeked up at Credence and revealed why he had paused, “The wizard prison of Azkaban is guarded by dementors: beings that feed on happiness and in so create an environment that is frigid, unwelcoming, and dark. Azkaban is not so much a punishment of isolation as it is being subjected to their company. Many wizards and witches go mad, often falling into a slumber such as yours. If and when they rise, it is to a waking nightmare, a cycle of madness and misery. Similar to obscurials, wizard nightmares are so long forgotten that they are considered nonexistent or its mislabeled as simple madness.

“In short, it was never a question for Queenie or I to help you.”

“Will I have another one?”

“I don’t think so,” Newt said as the pads of his fingers stroked back and forth over Credence’s knuckles.

“How are you sure?” he worried.

Newt looked at him. “Because you didn’t dwell in places that caused you pain. You sought places and things you enjoyed. I’m only sorry it took Queenie and I so long to get to you.”

“You don’t think I’m mad,” he rephrased, “even a little?”

“You’re far too hard on yourself,” Newt remarked. “You’re dreadfully sane in comparison to myself.”

He rose as Credence’s chest lifted with laughter. Newt smiled softly, dazedly lounging in the sound. “Mad people don’t laugh like that.”

Credence became conscious of it and it dwindled. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Newt admitted, lifting the back of his hand to rest beside him on Credence’s chest. “Not like you.”

Credence did not know what made him do it; it seemed the most natural thing in the world to slide his hand in Newt’s and lift it towards his mouth. The sound of Newt’s stomach ended his kiss, and Credence remembered, “Jacob brought things to eat. In that basket.”

Newt heaved himself up and followed to where he pointed. The only indication of his pain was a brief hand to his cranium as he carried the basket before he settled beside Credence against Colette’s thigh to be better out of the rain. Newt unpacked sandwiches and fresh fruit over their thighs after propping his knee against Credence’s. He did not think anything of it until Newt threw the leg over his entirely.

Newt peeked at the paper pausing in Credence’s hands. Credence hastily shook his head and continued unwrapping. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“I won’t think so.”

“But it is.”

“What? This?” He wiggled his foot between Credence’s calves, inciting nervous giggles.

“No. I thought…I told you, I don’t know what’s normal. So I don’t know…what’s allowed.”

“Ah,” Newt understood and then said smugly, “You may be surprised by how much is allowed, then.”

Credence had been midway through a bite before that hit him full force. “How much?”

Newt’s brows lifted innocently while he was in the middle of his own bite and he took his time chewing before answering, “Perhaps I shouldn’t say it while we eat.”

“Newt.”

“No, truly, it isn’t necessary and I don’t want to frighten you with unnecessary things.”

“What would I be scared of?”

Newt could not help but exhale a sound of mirth before he grew solemn. “You’re right, but…do you know how men make love to each other?”

Credence shook his head, so Newt asked, “Do you know how a man and woman make love?”

“Yes, but men don’t have…the…” Whether it was his own process or the look on Newt’s face, but Credence’s features opened in realization. “The…do…Do men?” his words tumbled out.

Newt laughed a little bashfully. “You know already even if it’s difficult to imagine putting theory into practice. But really, it’s not necessary. There are plenty of ways to share pleasure without—”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Credence blurted.

A different smile adorned Newt’s lips. “Not if you do it right.”

Credence’s eyes widened. “Me? You mean I could—um.”

“It’s up to you, but I wouldn’t demand anything when you're inexperienced. I, however…am. So. I wouldn’t mind.”

The sandwich lay completely forgotten in Credence’s lap as he gaped at Newt. What Newt was offering…only his own stomach growling made him finish his meal.

Wiping crumbs off his face and wadding the paper into a ball and dumping it into the basket, he cleared his throat. “So, um, how does it…start?”

Newt eyed him and then held something to his lips. “First, you eat this.”

Credence obeyed, letting Newt push something into his mouth before he bit down on a fruit he had never eaten before. It was sweet and the juice cleaned his mouth of further crumbs and spice. He stood when Newt did so and held his hand out to him. “Then, we go somewhere a bit less wet and prone to visitors.”

Newt drew his wand and apparated them back to their camp, where the others perked up under a massive, translucent umbrella. Queenie was wrapped in a blanket with her sister, her head on Tina’s shoulder as she smiled warmly at Credence while Katja greeted, “It’s nice to see you two on your feet…”

However her words faded as they watched the pair descend into Newt’s case, several hearty chuckles sounding as the lid snapped shut.

By some stroke of fortune, none of the creatures were in the tent as Newt set the basket down and flicked his wand for the toggles to seal the flaps shut. Credence felt a wave of intoxication when Newt pulled him in for a kiss, hands cradling his face while Newt hungrily but gently lavished Credence’s mouth. Newt’s tongue slid across his lip, and it was all the warning Credence had before Newt’s tongue slid past his lips into his mouth.

A foreign and vulnerable sound of pleasure escaped Credence’s throat as he merely tried to move with Newt. He tasted of fruit and distantly pepper, but through it all was something else that was uniquely _Newt_  filling his mouth. Credence felt inebriated when Newt withdrew, leaving Credence’s mouth wet and open to ask heavily, “Is this all right?”

Credence did not even open his eyes as he nodded, only wanting Newt to continue.

But he didn’t. The sound of buttons leaving their holes opened his eyes and he saw Newt’s hands moving over his front. He was halfway down before Credence’s hands moved on their own, halting Newt’s progress as he felt Newt’s torso under his hands. “Can I?” he rasped.

“Yes,” Newt voiced, sounding equally drunk and energetic. Credence liked it. He craved this eagerness from him. He liked how he used magic to close the case, the tent, but then his fingers to undo his shirt. Credence wanted those hands all over his body.

It had been a long time since Credence had seen Newt’s bare chest, and there was something indisputably special about seeing it here, just for himself. He hadn’t even finished unbuttoning it before he felt his lips press into the muscle of Newt’s chest. “Can I kiss here?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Newt replied, his voice wavering with panic or excitement.

Credence’s mouth moved up his collarbone. “Can I here?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Newt breathed into his hair. Credence heard the rush of Newt’s breath as the suction of his lips audibly trailed up Newt’s neck. Before he could ask, even the slightest pause of his lips made Newt purr, “You can kiss me anywhere. Do anything you want. I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

So Credence licked a trail up his neck, liking the way Newt’s head fell back and he held onto his shoulders. Credence retraced the line with kisses, but when he was almost back down to his chest, Newt pulled him up for his mouth. A similar, brief moan passed through Newt’s lips into Credence’s mouth as he lowered to the floor and took Credence with him.

Credence felt Newt’s hands on his waist before he was pulled beneath him, his back landing on his futon. He was subject to his own treatment as Newt littered his neck with kisses, Credence’s glossy eyes staring but not seeing his ceiling. He felt his buttons tug open and Newt’s palm pushing the fabric aside to kiss across his chest.

The palm on Credence’s groin startled him and had him languidly squirming under Newt’s movements. Newt’s hands wandered over his waist, over his hips and groin, then back up or further down to his thighs. Credence was straining in his fabric, feeling everything at once. His lips were swollen and his chest was open to air and Newt and Newt’s fingertips were under his—inside his—

“Credence?”

He blinked spots out of his vision as Newt’s face emerged in it. “It’s me,” he said, and softer still, “It’s just me…”

He felt himself covered once more as Newt refocused his attention on his face. “I know,” Credence exhaled raggedly.

“I’m sorry. It’s…been a long time for me. I got carried away.”

“No—I don’t want. Not—not…” he stammered before he finally huffed and rushed, “I don’t know what I want or how to say it but I want you do it. I want you. Whatever you want. I want it.”

Newt’s eyes were far too clear for how wildly inflammed Credence felt. “Are you sure—mmh!”

Credence gripped his face and yanked him back into his kiss. Newt fell wholly, wantonly into it, his features contorting into something like pain as he gasped, “Ahm!” between sloppy kisses. Feeling emboldened, Credence reached and found Newt’s hard length.

“Ah!” he cried and all but collapsed on Credence’s chest. He breathed in the scent of Newt’s hair, feeling Newt’s chest heave and his pelvis move with need.

“Whatever you were going to do…keep doing it.”

Newt’s face was red and he looked on the verge of tears as he lifted up enough to ask, “Are you sure?”

Credence slid his hand up those narrow hips to pull the last of Newt’s shirt from his trousers. “Don’t keep asking.”

Newt kissed him, nodding against his lips before he traveled down to Credence’s pelvis. He watched as Newt kissed his stomach and his lower abdomen while he pulled the waist of his pants down. Credence’s lips parted and then he fell back onto his futon as Newt’s mouth slid over him. Heat and sensation moved over him again and again until he felt restless and on the verge of something lewd and delicious.

“Newt…Newt,” he moaned, unsure where to touch to warn him, but Newt popped off just in time for seed to spill over his stomach. Credence looked down in time to see a slight drop on Newt’s lip, which he unconsciously licked off before he yelped at Credence flipping them over.

Now with his back on the futon, Newt haphazardly pushed against Credence’s kisses on his jaw, his neck and chest. “Wait, wait…you don’t have to,” he said breathlessly, but trembled entirely when Credence only touched his arousal.

“You’re lying,” he whispered, “and I want to. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make love to you.”

Newt swallowed thickly and clamped his eyes shut as he reached past Credence for something…

The sound of something small hitting the tent turned Credence toward the medium sized bottle squeezing its way through the toggle binding. Newt caught it and unscrewed the dropper as he looked otherwise nervous or…something Credence could not place.

“I need to…prepare. You might want to leave for this part.”

“No, I won’t,” he frowned.

Newt sighed and unveiled, “I need to stretch my anus with lubricant so you can fit. And you need to be lubricated as well to slide inside of me.”

Credence’s eyes widened and then hooded with lust. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Pardon?” Newt gulped when the bottle left his hands.

“I’ll do it,” Credence repeated with a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll try to, at least. Tell me how to do it.”

Newt flushed scarlet from his hair to his nipples as he removed his lower raiment. Credence’s eyes locked onto his cock, hard and pink. Newt pressed his lips together as he slowly moved onto his hands and knees. Credence felt like he could fall off a ship in a storm and not even notice.

“Lubricate your first finger and…put it in.”

Credence did as he was bid, lining his finger with the dropper and rubbing the slick fluid all around. He knelt behind Newt, already hard and poised as he carefully rubbed excess slick around the pink hole and then slowly pushed inside. The feeling was…not what Credence had expected. Hot and smooth, he met no resistance.

“Just, em…move it around a little. Let me get used to it.”

Credence heard him but his eyes had landed on the balls hanging between those slim, but strong thighs. The domes of his rear were the palest part of him, but they were faintly freckled like his thighs, like his lower back. Credence’s other hand found the back of a thigh, moving up for the pad of his thumb to gently push the soft orb underneath his anus. Newt had licked him and more; Credence wanted to know what he tasted like.

Newt’s breath faltered when he felt wet heat on his balls. “Credence? Cred—ah!”

Credence licked clean up his balls and through the valley of his ass, then came back down to suck them. Newt’s hole squeezed around his finger, reminding him of his task. Sliding his finger slowly back and forth, Credence imagined what he’d want if Newt were still doing this; what would feel good. He sucked in one testicle, carefully kneading it with the supple flesh of his lips before he left kisses on Newt’s thigh.

“ _An-nother!_ ” Newt exclaimed. “Carefully, another finger…”

But in the time it took to remove his hand and lubricate it, Credence’s hands decided to close around Newt’s waist while his mouth found the hole instead. Newt moaned in front of him, collapsing onto his elbows as Credence licked, sucked, and tantalized his entrance. “Credence—ah! Quickly, your fingers.”

He plunged his two fingers inside, and froze when Newt cried out a little louder and trembled around him. Newt quickly reached around and touched his wrist. “It’s fine! You haven’t hurt me.”

“Why are you shaking?”

Then Newt moved over him, holding onto his wrist as he innately thrust over his fingers. “Because this is the place…that feels good. But I’d like to not spend myself before you’re inside.”

Newt had to forbid Credence from using his mouth until he was able to fit three fingers comfortably inside. “You. You next.”

His cock pulsed in his grip as he moved lubricant around himself. “Like this?” he asked, still behind Newt, who glanced back at him.

Credence waited as Newt turned back around and settled underneath him. “Put your hands here,” he gestured toward his shoulders. Credence’s heart beat wildly as he leaned over Newt, who put his hands on Credence’s waist to pull him down. Newt’s calves slid around him as his knees lifted to tilt his pelvis for better access. He put Credence’s cockhead before his entrance, and pulled him with his legs the rest of the way.

Credence’s jaw fell open as he slowly pushed into Newt until his hips were flush with his ass. Indescribable swirls of sensation flew through his penis, deep inside his pelvis and all the way up into his heart. Newt’s eyes were closed against his own feeling and accustoming—

“Newt—Newt, I—!” Credence exclaimed, trembling and rutting slightly as he came.

Newt blinked, meeting Credence’s flushed gazed, before he erupted in a fit of laughter. Credence felt confused and then embarrassed with, “After all my restraint too.”

But Newt’s fingers tickled his jawline as he pulled Credence down for a kiss. “There’s still time. Move inside me, gently.”

There was more than time. Newt’s laughter had pushed Credence a good bit of the way out, so he thrust back inside and the wash of feeling that was visible on Newt’s face invigorated him, wanting to see more; wanting to see Newt feel good.

“Hahh, a little…faster,” Newt exhaled.

Credence did not dare hurt him but when Newt’s throat opened and he felt Newt’s body moving against his, begging for more, he bent as much as he could to taste the column of his neck, to lick and kiss—

Newt’s head turned and his teeth caught Credence’s ear. His hips slammed into Newt and the ensuing moans and nibbles on his ear were encouragement and thanks as he quickly found his climax. He felt Newt moving his hand over his swollen head as he jerked and trembled, his hips rolling slightly with Credence’s as he came.

Newt’s heel caught his hip and pushed him out. Credence landed on is side next to him but did not rest until Newt had wrung the last of his erection from him.

His body felt warm and gooey like honey as his head swam but he looked at Newt with clear eyes. Newt was gloriously wrecked, still flushed across his cheeks and chest as he contrastingly looked on the verge of sleep. He leaned over to kiss him, but as Newt's lips met his, so did his hand on Credence's chest. "I need to rest."

"How often do people do this?" Credence could not help but ask while Newt's hand drifted down to his waist.

He grinned sleepily. "We're only limited by what my body can take. Remember I'm older than you."

Credence hummed deep in his chest, partially listening as he kissed Newt's forehead, his hairline. "Barely."

"Barely!" Newt huffed, but it melted into giggles he shared with Credence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snowdrops mean hope and Rhododendron means danger while lavender stands for calm, precious, and devotion. Take from that what you will :).


	27. Out of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, dunno if ao3 is sending emails for chapter updates, so you may be behind.

It took a long while for the kiss on Credence’s temple to filter through his slumber. Distantly he heard the tent open but it was not until he heard the rustle of rain that his eyes opened. Newt’s warmth was leaving the futon as he listened. He wondered if the rain was outside the case, but it lacked the patter that would be on the leather.

Sliding on his pants and tying the drawstring, Credence went in search for him. The sound was coming from the direction of the hippogriffs, who were the only members of the sanctuary awake. Credence closed their gate behind him as his feet pressed over the soft grass and navigated into their forest. Newt was quite easy to find, naked as he was under the endless rain he was using to bathe.

Credence paused behind a tree, already turning to leave him be before he thought… _surprised by what is allowed._

He and Newt had already spent a night and more together naked. Was bathing so strange?

“Newt.”

He turned, humming, “Hmm?”

Credence peeked around the tree and saw Newt’s sleepy but warm smile over his shoulder. “Can I join you?”

He wore a toothy smile as he retorted softly, “You’ll have to remove those trousers first.”

Fabric dropped to the forest floor as Credence stepped out of them. He bumped against Newt as he hugged him from behind, his lips seeking the curve and slope of a shoulder. His erection slid against Newt’s hip but he did not mind as his hands slid over Credence’s. “I can’t have intercourse this morning. I’m a bit sore.”

Credence’s head lifted. “I hurt you?”

“No, no,” Newt whispered, shaking his head at his concerned face. “It’s natural. I’ll get used to it…the more we share each other.”

His mischief was handsome in his sleepy voice and hooded eyes. Credence’s hand lifted for his face when Newt leaned for a kiss, extending it into something longer. Newt turned fully around, his fingers raking the dark tresses back as well as tilting his head up for loud, wet kisses. Newt’s knuckles brushed over Credence’s torso as he reached between them, and then he felt his cock fitted between Newt’s thighs, snugly under his scrotum.

“We’ll make do,” Newt purred, kissing him again and slowly swaying his body. It was not as stimulating as being inside him, but with Newt nibbling his lips and his fingertips wandering his chest, Credence hardly minded. His own hands found Newt’s waist, where he pulled himself and Newt together until he realized Newt had nothing to stimulate the erection on Credence’s stomach.

Reaching between them, he found Newt’s cock and moved his thumb over the head. Newt shuddered violently, his nose knocking Credence’s as he stumbled forward. Credence moved backward with him, where Newt’s arms reached over his shoulders to catch them against a tree. Credence felt its bark on his rear and shoulder blades as Newt’s arms fell around him, his tongue sliding between Credence’s lips.

Credence shuddered, his hand unconsciously on Newt’s ass as he came and the other squeezing Newt’s erection. Newt shuddered, his forehead on Credence’s as he looked down to overlap the hand on his cock. “Would you kiss my neck?” he asked huskily.

Credence gladly did so, his hand moving over him with Newt’s guidance. Newt jerked gently, thrusting into Credence’s hand as he looked down, watching the seed spurting out. Newt softened out of his grip, closing the distance so his chest was against Credence’s as they caught their breath. Credence’s penis bobbed once against Newt, who laughed breathily, “Your stamina is will be the end of me.”

Credence grinned cheekily and he kissed him, spoiling himself with Newt’s lips. He pulled Credence back from the tree, picking off bark and rogue moss bits from his skin as they washed. He noticed how Newt reached behind him to clean his hole, causing Credence to blush profusely. Newt planted a loud kiss on his cheek, inciting an embarrassed smile but nothing need be said.

Dried and buttoning one of Newt’s shirts over himself, Credence paused to rake his hair off of his face and heard the bubbly chirps of a bowtruckle. He also felt the pointed fingers on his skin as Pickett revealed himself on his ribcage. “Wrong person,” Credence apologized. “I’m borrowing his shirt.”

Pickett looked up at him, possibly puzzled, mostly annoyed as he crawled onto Newt’s outstretched hand. “Don’t get angry,” he hushed as he made his way first out of the case. “You may as well get used to it if you’re going to hang off my clothes instead of pay attention to who’s in them.”

Credence craned his neck from where he was rolling up Newt’s trouser legs on him. They were a little tight and long, but would manage until he accessed his own luggage. Above, the Goldsteins and Jacob were gathered for breakfast despite it still being dark with the dawn. Newt was presumably with the dragons while Credence mixed his tea…

“You look nice in Newt’s clothes,” Tina remarked beside him. It took a second for the words to sink in and then his gaze jerked to see her smirk. She nudged him with her shoulder. “They grow up so fast.”

Puzzled, he said, “I’m not little.”

“I was talkin’ about Newt.”

He blinked, and shared her laughter before Newt apparated in their camp. “Jacob, I have a monumental task to ask of you.”

Jacob perked up from his breakfast and stood to attention. “Yeah, what is it?”

“I’m not exaggerating. It’s one of the most revered things to wizard-kind.” 

“How about you explain it and then I’ll judge it,” Jacob requested, albeit nervously.

“I need you to keep a secret.”

Queenie stood from her place by the fire and Credence felt Tina react beside him. Queenie asked, “Can a no-maj keep a secret?”

At Jacob’s expression she quickly explained, “It’s a promise bound in magic, that’s all.”

“A magical person observes the promise,” Newt elaborated, “but there’s nothing restricting a muggle from being a secret keeper. Colette, Alexandre, and Florenc are finally asleep and in their weakest state.” He turned back to Jacob. “Myself and the others can quadruple protective enchantments around them, but nothing is better than one person keeping their location secret. It is old magic that can shorten the radius of knowledge to the people involved. We need to do it before the Romani awaken.”

Jacob’s lips pursed as he absorbed this. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Newt shook his head. “Well. The secret is engraved into your soul.”

"Oh. Magic runs that deep, huh?"

"But it is a painless process," Newt promised.

Jacob was visibly nervous but nodded. “Yeah, sure. I can keep my mouth shut.”

He then looked to Tina. “Would you reside over it?”

Her eyes widened. “Jacob, are you sure?”

He nodded with more confidence. “It’s not like I would’ve gone around talkin’ about dragons anyways, right? Besides, who’s gonna ask someone like me where some dragons are? I get it, so yeah, Newt, I’ll do it.”

Newt nodded thankfully and held his hand out for Credence to take. They disapparated to the hills. Credence immediately felt the chill of spring leave his skin as the dragons’ slumber made the very ground warm and the air like summer. In front of Colette, Newt released Credence to instead offer his hand to Jacob. “Take my hand. Tina?”

Jacob obeyed, letting Newt hold onto his wrist while Tina pointed her wand down at them. In the sunlight, the opalescent string that dripped from her wand was almost clear apart from its silvery glisten. It wound across their clasped hands as she said, “Jacob Kowalksi, do you vow to protect the location of the dragons Colette, Florenc, and Alexandre?”

He looked to Newt, who simply nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“You vow to never reveal in voice or writing where they are?”

“I do.”

“You swear to only share knowledge of them with the bystanders here: myself, Newt, Queenie, and Credence?”

Newt added, “And any Scamander.”

Tina reiterated, “You swear to only share knowledge of them with the bystanders here, as well as Charlotte, Claude, and Theseus Scamander?”

“I do,” he said, watching as with each promise the magical thread tightened around them, lethargically knotting itself around their hands and wrists.

“Perhaps Albus as well,” Newt realized.

“You really should have written something out before you asked me to do this,” Tina hushed.

“I swear to only talk about ‘em with folks Newt trusts, and with his permission,” Jacob finished.

“That’ll do,” she agreed. “And do you swear, if any knowledge of a threat to these dragons comes to your attention, you will to come to myself, Newt, Queenie, or Credence?”

“I swear,” he nodded.

The thread of magic slithering from Tina’s wand ended and fell over their hands, sealing the knot which then faded into their flesh. Newt released him and Jacob’s fingers wiggled nervously before he shook the jitters out of his arm. “I feel like I just got married or somethin’.”

“It’s an honour and a pleasure,” Newt teased as he with drew his own wand. “Would you all help me?”

Jacob stood back as they began circling the colony, casting enchantments that slowly fell over the dragons like silver blankets or grew from the grass into a translucent dome. Credence followed Newt, repeating his words and feeling his magic surge out of his wand to compound with Tina and Queenie’s matching enchantments. By the time they were done, the dragons had faded from visibility. Only the bare hills stood before them as Newt swished a line over the grass, where the weeds popped with violet wildflowers like a placement marker.

Queenie asked, “How will ya know when they wake up?”

“Dragons of Alexandre and Florenc’s age usually sleep for two weeks, but with Colette, they may sleep a month, it is difficult to say. I will return in two weeks to be sure.”

“We,” Credence quietly amended.

A grin flashed on Newt’s face as he bashfully looked down. “Yes, we.”

“And then?” Tina asked.

Newt moved a hand over his hair and nape as he shrugged. “I don’t know. Set up a sanctuary somewhere. More like convince my mother to use the one she already has or to sell some of the land to me.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Oh goodness…”

Queenie said, “We’re kinda…at the end here, aren’t we?” She looked between her sister and Jacob. “We’re goin’ back to New York, right?”

“Yeah,” Jacob exhaled with a laugh. “It’s been…another life here. Then again, it’s always an out-of-time experience with Newt.”

Newt’s gaze turned soft. “Thank you…all of you. Especially you, Queenie. I wouldn’t have been able to have them back if it weren’t for you.”

“Sure,” she bobbed with glee. “I spend so long stayin’ outa people’s heads, it’s been nice havin’ some fun.”

Credence spoke up, “I’m sorry again, that you had to go through that.”

“No, don’t worry,” she shook her head. “Newt’s never questioned Jacob comin’ along. How could I leave Newt’s honey inside his own head? I’d do it again—maybe with some anti-pain potions first.”

“You guys haven’t eaten yet,” Tina realized, and they walked back to the camp, taking their time conversing over her next question, “So if we got two weeks, where will you take us this time?”

However when they did stroll around the campfire, Katja and Fiona were waiting for them. “Morning all,” the former greeted. “We’re moving on today, but Fiona and I were thinking…”

Fiona took over as she met Credence’s gaze, “Before we left, we thought we might be able to help you with your nightmares.”

“I’ve only had the one,” he puzzled.

“True,” Katja said, “but it seemed to take you all by surprise. We might be able to find why it happened or perhaps how to avoid another in the future.”

Credence looked to Newt, whose weight shifted. “How, exactly?”

Fiona giggled, “Nothing invasive. We practice divination. There’s no harm in a deck of cards.”

“Tarot?” Queenie reiterated.

“Wait, like…fortune telling?” Jacob said with a smirk.

“We’re not as good as that,” Katja laughed. “Divination can, of course, yield glimpses of possible futures, but it is more so…a third perspective. The cards are mirrors that bring your attention to things you may not have otherwise been aware of.”

“Hm,” Tina hummed, more like a grunt. Credence glanced at her and knew she was dubious.

Then he met Newt’s gaze. “It’s up to you.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I…don’t know anything about…Tarot, you said?”

“Tarot cards,” Tina intercepted. “They’re similar to no-maj playing cards, with four suits—like the hearts, diamonds, whatever—but there are more cards involved.” She said more quietly, “Anyone I’ve ever seen practice divination uses teas or incense that puts them in a drugged haze. So it’s not magic so much as drug abuse.”

“Well whatever gets you there,” Katja overheard. Her gaze was dark over her smile. “The plain where magic reigns does take a little effort reaching. But as I said, it’s not so much fortune telling as it is food for thought. What do you say, Credence?”

He turned to Newt again, who did not seem bothered, merely open to Credence’s decision. “I’m interested.”

Newt nodded gently as Fiona clapped her hands, “Wonderful! Shall we do it out here?”

Katja said, “On the table’s easier. Oliver and the others are up, they’re just taking their time about it.”

“You can all fit,” Fiona waved them over. “I promise it’s much bigger on the inside than it looks.”

“We’re used to that, aren’t we?” Jacob laughed, bringing up the rear as they climbed into the Romani’s caravan.

Credence’s initial reaction was to the smell. It was not bad, but it was earthy and herbal as various bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling and pots of fresh plants lined the various windows. Hanging from one of the rafters in front of a window was Oliver’s green snake, and the man himself pivoted himself out of his bunk to rest his feet on the stairs leading up to it. He touched his fingertips to his forehead in a simple greeting.

Stephen and Niel were manning a machine in which dozens of fruits were funneled into a press, out of which poured fresh juice. Rüdiger touched the pitcher collecting the juice, frosting the glass with cold before he poured for everyone.

The caravan was one space: a kitchen, living area, and bedroom in one, all of it roughly divided by curtains or how the beds were arranged. Katja pulled out a chair for Credence at the kitchen table and she sat opposite him after setting two decks of cards on the surface. He was more interested in the wood burned engravings of a circular lunar calendar and constellations before she asked, “Choose a deck.”

“Does it matter which one?”

“Not at all. Simply choose the one you are more drawn to.”

He was not sure what that meant but looking them over, his eyes kept returning to the black cards with ornate, gold detailing. “These, I guess.”

“Good choice,” she chimed proudly and with a smug look at Fiona. “I’ll do the reading, then.”

Fiona took her floral, yellow-backed cards and returned them to a bookshelf over what must have been her bed. Katja did not touch the cards, however. “Take them in your hands and shuffle them. For as long as you want.”

Jacob crossed his arms as he observed, “That’s…simple.”

“The cards need to get to know him,” she explained simply, watching Credence’s rudimental shuffle. “You can move them and hold onto them as long as you like.”

“Is there a normal amount of time for that?” Jacob asked.

Fiona picked up, “It’s entirely up to your intuition. Some people cut the deck once and feel it’s enough. Others shuffle for hours and then only draw one card.”

Credence’s eyes widened and he put the cards down. “That’s enough.”

Katja hovered her hand over the deck, and they watched the cards slide by themselves across the table in a neat horseshoe fanning around Credence. Behind him, he heard Tina ask Newt, “What do you think of all this?”

“Divination was never my area,” he admitted. “My mother practices, but she prefers runes or wine dregs to cards. Theseus thinks it’s nonsense.”

“Runes!” Fiona chimed. “Rüdiger uses those as well. He’s quite good with them.”

Knowing some of her words, Rüdiger reached behind him for a pouch that hung from his belt. He let a couple of small, black things pour out of it to show them the small pieces with white markings on them, like letters.

Meanwhile, Katja told Credence, “Now take your time. Let the cards call to you, and flip over the ones you want.”

Credence tore his gaze from the strangely jagged, yet carved runes in Rüdiger’s hand and lifted his own—

Newt was suddenly beside him, pushing his hand back down while Newt’s other hand pressed its fingertips onto the table within the semicircle of cards. Like a silent force of energy exploding beneath them, the cards and more leapt into the air. Katja exclaimed as her back hit her chair and two pots fell from the windowsill to break in the sink. Rüdiger managed to hold onto his runes but cinched the pouch tight. Cards clattered softly around them, some still on the table but most of them on the floor.

When Katja collected herself, she and Fiona bent to start collecting cards, but Oliver touched her shoulder and pointed to the table where two of the cards clearly overlapped each other in a sort of cross.

“Oh…he’s right…although this is a different reading than anything I’ve practiced.”

Credence, however, was watching Newt, who did not look indifferent anymore. He looked scared.

Katja and Oliver were looking over the crossed cards. “The King of Swords inverted…that’s…awful, to be honest. A figure of power and judgment but upside down is basically the opposite of might and justice; it's corruption, evil, and cruelty. But he is covered with the Magician, a figure of—”

“He is sideways,” Fiona interrupted. “So he is capable of anything. He is a figure of incredible skill and self-confidence. He can be a physician or a diplomat, a source for wisdom or disaster.”

“Cards crossing each other like this usually represent a figure and that figure’s obstacle,” Katja agreed. “So cruelty is hindered by the physician. That’s hopeful. It could mean your mind that is inverted and a physician can help you.”

“What about these others?” Fiona wondered, intrigued, while Credence realized one of the cards had landed in his lap face up. He lifted it up and looked at Fiona as she laughed, “That must be you. The Page of Wands. People like to call him the lover, since he’s a figure of loyalty. Oh! And the Two of Cups is here!”

Credence looked at the illustration of two figures standing next to each other with cups in their hands. “I don’t think anyone here needs explaining for that,” Katja remarked dryly.

Though to Credence’s perplexity, Fiona provided, “It’s a romantic card. It’s a marriage, or two people bound to each other.”

Credence felt warmth rush through his chest while Oliver and Katja were conversing before she switched to English, “The Ace of Wands is upside-down.”

They looked at the card near the original crossed two. “And that’s…bad?” Jacob guessed.

“The wand is a symbol of creation,” Fiona explained. “Think of everything to do with creativity, invention, magnificence…but the opposite. Creative destruction, in a way.”

His lips pursed, deep in thought. “And, uh, that one?”

“Six of Wands,” Katja introduced. “Lot of wands, apparently.”

“It’s a card about trials or challenges,” Fiona said, “but not with negative outcomes. The one figure holding his wand is facing six others, but it is upright. The challenges result in success.”

“Speaking of,” Katja said with a look to the final card. Credence immediately did not care for it: an illustration of a man hanging by his ankles. “The Hanged Man is not usually the arcana people wish to see. He hangs like a sacrifice.”

“But he can also be a hero of wisdom won from trials and challenges,” Fiona reiterated optimistically.

However Newt was reaching toward the table again, and as his fingertips touched the card, Credence saw what he did: another card beneath it. Newt slid the Hanged Man aside to reveal a landscape underneath a night sky.

“The Moon,” Katja exhaled as if annoyed. “How fitting. It was hiding, as do hidden enemies. It warns of danger.”

But Oliver said something that drew her head up to him. She did not have anything to say, merely processed his words as he otherwise locked eyes with Newt and said, “Madness.”

Credence looked at the card again, realizing that the figures under the sky were actually two wolves or dogs instead of humans. “Like werewolves?” he wondered.

Oliver shrugged, and with a gentle wave of his hand, all the cards flew back onto the table in a neat stack. Katja placed her hands on her hips and apologized, “I cannot say this was a successful reading, as I’m not sure whom it was for.” She gave a pointed look at Newt.

“I apologize,” he said softly. “I…was impatient. We are leaving today, as well.”

Credence silently looked at him. Newt was lying.

Tina picked up. “It means a lot, though, that you wanted to help.”

Jacob coughed with a scratch to his nose as he read the mood. “Yeah, it’s actually been fascinatin’.”

“We already made breakfast if you want any,” Queenie offered, moving to the door of the caravan.

The last meal shared with the Romani was subdued, but overall pleasant. It ended with them shaking hands, although Oliver gave a very Scamander farewell by kissing the air beside Newt’s cheeks. He then clasped Credence’s hand while his other touched Credence’s hair. He said something in French which Newt translated, “Fortune and safety.”

“Thank you,” was all he could say, but Oliver nodded with a smile and then they were gone quite as easily as they had first arrived.

The camp was oddly quiet and empty until Jacob remarked, “I’m not the only one bothered, right?”

“Yeah, uh, Newt,” Tina confronted. “Wanna explain?”

Instead of answering, however, Newt exchanged looks with Queenie, and then they both looked at Credence. The latter touched his arm as she rushed, “Try not to get angry.”

“Why would I be angry? It seemed more like a reading for Newt than me. I didn’t really expect much to begin with.”

But Queenie’s fears did not seem resolved as she looked at Newt. “I told you once that your obscurus was information for you alone to share with people.”

Credence’s features settled. “What does that have to do with what happened in the caravan?”

“The runes,” Queenie said. “They were…bones.”

“Oh my god,” Tina realized. “Those were an obscurial’s bones?”

“You mean a kid? A kid’s bones?” Jacob exclaimed.

“How do you know?” Credence asked calmly.

Queenie shook her head. “Newt told me—thought at me—uhm…”

Newt intercepted the conversation. “As I left Hogwarts, I didn’t know if I would see you again. I told her how one of the greatest magical tools is an obscurial’s bones. The obscurus itself dissolves when it dies, but the bones are used in dark magic. For…obvious reasons. I didn’t tell you because you were so averse to discussing it, I thought that in itself made you safe from anyone knowing how rare and powerful…”

He paused and blinked hard before he said weakly, “And how expensive you are.”

Silence.

Then, “How much?”

Newt looked sick. “Don’t ask that.”

“How much?” Credence pushed. “How much would my skeleton sell for?”

 _“I don’t know,”_ Newt rasped, the words only air in his throat. His eyes were red as he held Credence’s gaze. “Millions. Hundreds of millions.”

Credence absorbed that, and after another moment asked with no small degree of astonishment, “How do you even know that? About people using obscurial bones?”

Newt looked away, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “Leta…told me once. That was so long ago; I didn’t believe her when she said it. I was a child and obscurials were a myth, but she said her family had a wand that was bone. Black as if it was charred, sharp enough to cut whomever was using it, and from a person so strong their magic had eaten them. It was only later that I could look back and know of what she was speaking. Then I held the Sudanese girl…and I met you. Rüdiger’s runes look like bits taken from your obscurus’s talons.”

“We’ve been living with dark wizards all this time?” Tina wondered incredulously.

Credence was further surprised as Newt shook his head. “No. They were…neutral. That pouch holding the runes was moth eaten and ancient looking; the runes have likely been passed down to him, same as Oliver’s parseltongue. I doubt he even knows what they are. They are not evil people…they merely have tools usually used for cruel things.”

Jacob’s sigh drew their attention, where he shrugged. “I’m a veteran, right? I don’t like guns, but lots of folks have ‘em. They’re not exactly monsters, but they have ‘em. I get what he’s saying. Doesn’ make me any less worried, but I get it. I am curious, though, what happened at the table? Was that on purpose?”

Newt admitted, “I…overreacted. I saw the runes and was frightened of what the cards might show.”

Tina exhaled loudly. “This morning took a turn for the strange. Let’s get outa here. Some metropolis commotion will do us good.”

The others agreed, and by the afternoon they were in a city that was small, but old fashioned and thus heavily populated with wizards. Queenie perked up at the boutiques and bakeries, and with her Jacob and Tina’s mood brightened. The air between Newt and Credence remained somber, however, and Newt especially was silent throughout the day. Credence stole glances at him periodically, but did not realize Newt was doing the same until they settled for the night.

They returned outside of the city, both from Newt’s preference and Tina’s agreement that it was safer for his luggage to remain out of cities to avoid accidents. Credence descended into Newt’s case, where he was already finishing with the creatures. He happened to look at Newt in the hippogriff sanctuary, but Newt quickly turned back to grooming Charlotte.

It was only a while afterward, once Credence was ready for bed that he noticed a piece of paper on his pillow:

_Are you angry?_

Like a balloon deflating, any upset feelings left him. Exiting the tent, Credence found Newt leaning against a tree with one of his journals on his knees. Brushing his hand across Hector’s feathers, Credence made his way over and quietly sat next to Newt around the tree. He placed the note over the pages, causing his pen to stop.

_I’m not angry._

He heard Newt’s breath softly move with relief, but then he flipped the paper over and started writing. Credence frowned a little until Newt moved for him to be able to see as he wrote.

_I’ve only told one person of your obscurial. On my birthday, when Theseus came to share a drink with Albus and me, Albus resided over our secret. Theseus is your secret keeper. No one apart from the three of us, you, Jacob, Tina, and Queenie will ever be able to speak of it, and only with your permission. You are the only one with the ability to share it, if you choose._

Credence’s lips parted as he read the words, and then again when Newt’s hand had stopped and restarted, _I’m sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe._

“Are you still not angry?” he whispered, but when his head turned to gauge Credence’s expression, Credence leaned forward and caught his lips. The paper crunched in his grip, and then crackled as it burned into embers floating around them.

Credence’s kiss was soft and earnest. “I’m not angry,” he insisted when he pulled away for air. “I understand. I just wish you told me these things.”

“You’re right…you’re right,” Newt apologized. His fingers found Credence’s, dislodging the last bits of paper that burned into soot on Credence’s palm. “It’s…some things are safer if the danger is simply forgotten, but I should have told you.”

“It’s unfair,” he voiced, watching as Newt played with his fingers. “How you do everything for me but I feel useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Newt hushed. “I never thanked you for handling Kraus. You could have killed him and been done with it.”

“Would you have wanted that?” Credence doubted.

“No,” Newt finally laughed quietly. “What I’m saying is, you’re stronger than you think—than any of us can really fathom, and you’re already in such control of it.”

“I don’t think so,” Credence disagreed. “Sometimes things happen without my letting them…sometimes I want to let them happen.”

“Such as?” Newt asked.

Credence looked up, his eyes wandering over Newt’s face and recollecting the various bruises and lacerations he had seen there. “When you’re injured. When people treat you badly. I don’t like it.”

Newt’s lips were curving at their corners. “Perhaps my brother was right. I should have taught you defensive magic sooner.”

“I’d like to know it,” Credence agreed, “but you haven’t been wrong. Knowing how to use spells in the right way has worked well enough. I want to learn as much as I can to help you.”

“Not because magic is fun?” he teased.

“That too,” Credence purred, leaning in for another kiss. “I want to learn something else first.”

“Hmm?” Newt uttered as Credence explored his mouth, kissing the corner and moving his mouth over Newt’s to feel how his lips moved.

Newt’s hooded gaze lifted as Credence stood, and then he grinned when Credence pulled him along. Their steps sped up the closer to the tent they were, until once inside Credence turned and Newt caught him about the waist. The former’s hands came up around Newt’s face, desperately holding him to ravish his mouth. “Teach me more,” he ordered breathlessly.

Newt’s brow furrowed, and Credence loved it. That almost pained, lost expression when all Newt wanted was him. Newt captured his mouth as he pulled the shirt from Credence’s trousers. He unbuttoned them himself, feeling his erection spring free before he gave Newt’s pants a yank. The button fell somewhere, causing Newt to laugh. He took the chance to pull his shirt over his head, both of them stepping out of their raiment before Newt put the bottle in Credence’s hands and crawled on all fours over the futon.

“You know what to do.”

Newt moaned and rocked against Credence’s mouth, his hand reaching back to briefly grip his hair. “The lubricant…”

Credence wondered how close Newt was as he readied him, feeling Newt squeeze and shudder around his fingers. When Newt said he was ready, he slicked fluid over himself, but then Newt reached around and pulled his cockhead against his entrance, Credence’s vision saturated with frilly edges to things.

“Really?” he blurted.

“Put it in,” Newt said impatiently.

Breathing became difficult as he did so, staring at the unobstructed view of himself entering Newt. He watched that long expanse of spine and shoulders stretch as Newt gasped in pleasure, reaching forward to rest on his elbows and push himself back over Credence. His hand slid over the dip of Newt’s lower back, all the way up his scar, which was warm and tingled against Credence’s touch.

Newt shuddered and began moving around him. “Credence…this is usually your part of the task.”

“Sorry,” he rushed, clumsily falling into Newt’s pace.

“Don’t be sorry, just…” Newt exhaled. “Just move. Please—yes! Like that.”

“You’re not sore?” Credence worried.

Newt twisted slightly to bring Credence’s other hand into the bend of his waist. “Dare I say it, sometimes that is the objective,” he laughed slightly. He turned to smile back at him. “It feels better than it hurts, so don’t worry about me. Just don’t bloody stop—ah!”

Blood surged downward and Credence moved on his own. Lost in the throbbing sensations, the sex became mindless and powerful. Credence watched himself thrust inside and pull back out, wet and dark and against everything he had before heard about sex. This was freeing and consuming all at once, and with his pace naturally quickening and Newt’s gasped encouragements, Credence’s fingertips pressed into him until Newt suddenly jerked against him. Thrusting himself over Credence quickly, Newt came, squeezing hard around him so Credence saw spots. The shock of it stymied his own climax but seeing Newt twist so he was more on his side, flushed and sweaty and _perfect,_ Credence was undone.

He did not pull out right away. Instead, he lay behind Newt, holding him as if he was the only weight keeping Credence on the ground. It was a welcome surprise when Newt drew one of his hands downwards, coaxing it to rub his half-hard erection. It did not take long for Credence to swell inside him. “I want to do it again.”

Newt smirked over his shoulder at him. “I couldn’t have guessed.”

“Is that a no?” he exhaled, frowning as Newt squeezed around him.

His lips moved over Newt’s shoulder as the latter replied, “You’re free to move now.”

Credence’s mouth paused, thinking that over. He carefully pulled out to thrust back in. Newt shifted beside him, leaning forward a bit while holding Credence’s hand on his groin. Credence’s fingers followed his over the slick head as he voiced, “I didn’t know this was a way to do it.”

Newt laughed. “There are plenty of variations but I won’t reveal too many with your stamina.”

He exclaimed when Credence thrust into him, his own mirth in his chest. This time was more languid, Credence sparking his lust and then gently stroking it out until he licked along the edge of Newt’s ear. He distantly heard Newt tell him to use his teeth and unconsciously did so. However even as Newt’s shoulder lifted and his breath quickened, it was Credence who came first.

But as he was still dripping seed, he smoothly pulled out and moved down Newt’s body. He felt him rise up to see what he was doing, a note of inquiry on his lips before his head fell back against the feeling of Credence sucking his cockhead. He trembled at the slight feeling of teeth over the sensitive head.

“C-Careful—hah! It’s…over stimulating. And a bit frightening.”

Credence giggled, and Newt glanced at him before covering his face with embarrassment. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” he said innocently. Before Newt could question further, he was inside Credence’s mouth, sliding through his lips and the warm grip of his hand. Credence realized he could gauge better when Newt was about to come from here, how his hips squirmed with need and then clumsily moved when he was nearest.

The taste was not what Credence was expecting. Or the texture, really, but Newt provided a handkerchief as if from thin air. Maybe that was exactly what he did. “It is not the pleasantest of flavours,” he agreed.

Credence let him clean his lips as he settled once more beside him. “It feels good,” he considered, now free from the handkerchief to kiss Newt’s hair, his temple.

“Yes,” Newt chuckled, “it does. I suppose that is why we persevere.”

Credence hummed low in his throat, exploring Newt’s jaw and then his neck. Newt smiled dreamily at the tent’s ceiling. “You’re quite good at this.”

He felt Credence’s hand on the other side of his neck while he otherwise moved on to his collarbone. “I want to touch you everywhere.”

“Mm,” Newt echoed that deep sound, turning his head to breathe in the scent of Credence’s hair.

“Are you still not sore?”

“Merlin’s beard,” Newt huffed.

*******

The following morning started similar to the last, with them showering and dressing, until Credence heard Newt laughing. Exiting the tent, he found him near his plethora of potted plants…and the mess of ripe fruit on the ground and weighing down branches.

“You wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would you?” Newt teased. Credence looked at him blankly, and then it dawned on him. He had only managed to put on pants so far, so Newt saw him blush from his hair all the way down his chest as he quickly rotated and fled the scene.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he heard Newt behind him. “At this rate, we’ll never go hungry.”

“Don’t tell Tina,” he said as he yanked a shirt on.

“Why?” Newt asked, but he never received an answer. The others were oblivious during the breakfast of oranges and melon, and then they explored a new town.

The following day Tina asked, “Where are we, exactly?” They had left the town in which a different language was spoken and were moving along a deserted road. On one side was dense forest, and on the other was a cliff overlooking the lush valley below.

“I had guessed you would want to move south,” Newt explained. “We should reach the Mediterranean tomorrow. Hopefully there is further into spring than here.”

“That’s thoughtful,” she considered. Then, “What does the Mediterranean have that these forests and hills don’t?”

Jacob laughed as Newt looked guilty. “I’m not looking for more creatures.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed.

“It is hardly my fault if the rocky terrain of Greece and the rolling hills of Italy are opportune for dragons,” he admitted quickly.

Credence’s mirth joined Jacob and Queenie’s as Tina rolled her eyes. “Really, Newt, and what are you going to do with them?”

“Nothing!” he defended. “I never got a chance to see them before.”

“I’m curious what Charlotte will say when you propose to have dragons and hippogriffs living together.”

“There are ways to keep them separated,” he remarked, “and I’m hoping a grandchild will soften her resolve.”

Tina laughed, “I doubt she’s the kind to be distrac—”

Queenie was walking in front of Newt, but whirled around, locking eyes with him. “There’s someone coming.”

“What?” he said as Tina fell silent.

“They’re like a bubble—I can’t see in their head,” she panicked, her eyes flicking onto Credence.

Things happened quickly. Newt set his case and the coat on his forearm down beside Credence, but not before he drew something thick and silver out of it. Credence blurted a sound as it was thrown over him, and was only silence by Queenie uttering, “Don’t talk, honey.”

He felt ridiculous. He could see through the fabric around him but did not understand until a voice, smooth and cold like a stream reached his ears. “Hello again, all.”

Queenie stood in front of him and Newt was beside him, so he had to peer between them at the man who had spoken.

“You travel quickly, I’ll grant you that.”

He was pale. It took Credence a second to realize his hair was as fair as his skin. There was something…off…about his eyes.

“Hello, Tina. Don’t be so stiff. We worked together, after all, even if you did not know it.”

Credence felt sick as he mirrored Tina’s disgust. Queenie carefully stepped back enough so her heel dug into his foot, urging for silence.

“Sure,” Tina tried hard for calm, “but you’re not my superior anymore. Even as a fake Graves I wanted to spit in your face.”

Gellert Grindelwald laughed. “I played my part well, then. That Percival was such a tightly wound individual. It made him easy to hoodwink, however. And Newt…Newt…”

He began to stroll forward but Newt stepped beside Tina. “Please stay where you are.”

To their surprise and suspicion, his steps halted. “I understand,” he nodded. “You are…one of Albus’s favourites, after all. I suppose he does not speak well of me.”

“He doesn’t speak of you at all,” Newt replied as if in challenge.

It must have had the desired effect. Grindelwald’s reply was delayed as the side of his mouth twitched in a sort of smile.

“Jacob, get behind us,” Queenie whispered urgently.

“Don’t worry, I don’t care for the muggle,” he promised, watching Jacob stand beside and a little behind Queenie. “No. I don’t care for the muggle at all.”

“You’ve been following us,” Tina interrogated. “What do you want?”

The man’s pale brows lifted innocently. “Darling, I have eyes in my head and it doesn’t take long to count how one of you is missing. It’s not so much a what, but a _who_ I’m here for.”

Credence blanched as he looked at the others, who silently gazed back at Grindelwald. Credence did not dare move, let alone figure out what was around him to make him invisible to Grindelwald.

The man smirked again. “Come now. I know he is alive and doing _very_ well. That’s all thanks to you, isn’t it, Newt?”

“I’d prefer Mr. Scamander, if you don’t mind,” Newt declined.

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “I should have put more stock in you. You and that…suitcase. Where is that too, I wonder?”

“I found a place for it,” Newt disregarded. Credence looked down at where it was likewise covered by the cloth.

“Hmm,” Grindelwald’s smile was diminishing with his patience. “This doesn’t have to be difficult. I very simply just want the boy.”

“You can’t have him,” Newt declared, though his voice was soft.

“There it is, isn’t it?” Grindelwald praised. “Bravery. That’s why he likes you. The kind that borderlines stupidity. Albus always did have a weakness for it. Because he’s too smart, you see? The last time he acted bravely and stupidly…well. It backlashed and made him a coward. A smart coward, who never leaves his precious school.”

“That’s quite enough,” Newt silenced.

Grindelwald laughed. “You’re even defending him, goodness. The thing about Albus Dumbledore, though…he’s selfish. I thought I had that vanity all to myself…long ago. Now he keeps it to himself. What do you think he would do if he knew you were so loyal to him? Return it in kind? Or continue using the advantages of it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Newt refused. “He’s not here.”

“You’re not wrong,” Grindelwald nodded. He moved a hand to his hip, simultaneously moving his coat aside to reveal the wand at his belt. “This puts me at quite the advantage, though.”

Newt smiled without mirth. “You’re confident for being outnumbered.”

“I will admit the subway was not my finest hour,” Grindelwald admitted, “but I did well enough with a wand which was not mine. I would have certainly defeated the aurors if you had not surprised me. There are only three of you now, and only one is an auror. Not even a very good one.”

Jacob shifted slightly, uncounted. Tina was composed.

“It’s not a matter of numbers,” Newt supplied, “it’s a matter of intent.”

“Oh, well, I cannot argue with you there, albeit for a completely different reason.” Grindelwald squinted at the sky. “Do wax philosophically to waste my time. Where is Credence?”

“He isn’t here,” Tina barked angrily.

Grindelwald’s eyes moved between the three of them; they even flicked to Jacob once. The inhale through his nose was audible as he processed something, and then drew his wand—

Something small but bright flew from Newt’s wand and was absorbed by a quick shield in front of him. When the magic faded his wide eyes and rejuvenated smile were on Newt. “My my my, Mr. Scamander. You do have gumption.”

“I am not under the illusion you will let any of us live if you don’t have Credence,” Newt replied. “But as we have told you, he isn’t here.”

“Yes, I cannot fault your thought process,” Grindelwald said. “Which means we’re in for a bit of a duel. Seeing as you did not _bow—”_

A much larger force shot from his wand. Newt tackled Tina aside instead of guarding against it. The magic exploded over the valley behind them

“—we can do without formalities.”

Newt and Tina were back on their feet, firing at will, but Grindelwald blocked them so easily it was…unsettling. Credence reached for his wand, only to realize he had never put his holster on that morning. His head jerked up, terrified.

Grindelwald sighed, and the next spell he cast knocked Newt and Tina to the ground. “Enough.”

Newt apparated back onto his feet, and Credence could have sworn something moved behind him, knocking Tina back to the ground with enough force that she had trouble breathing.

Grindelwald’s expression cleared as Newt faced him, wand pointed directly at him. “Brave and stupid.”

His wand flicked up, but instead of running, Newt swung his wand back like a whip. Grindelwald’s spell lost its target, its momentum instead traveling along the path Newt made in a wide arc, and then cast it back toward its sender. Magic cracked like a whip made of lightning as Grindelwald’s eyes widened and he caught the magic just in time. He sent it upward, where it exploded in light and sound, making them squint as Grindelwald no longer looked so well kept.

“He taught you that… _he taught you that didn’t he?_ ” he growled.

Newt, however, was still wand ready. Angry, Grindelwald jabbed his wand in the air. Newt put a shield up that made the garnet red spell not so much bounce off, but expand like a flower around him…

But so did Newt’s shield. It bloomed around him and caught the flower, making the edges disintegrate like orange embers before it shot back at Grindelwald. He merely swatted it aside, more livid than ever. “Then let’s see what Albus taught the boy who was expelled for love.”

Credence felt frozen. How did he know that? Did he get it from when he was interrogating Newt as Graves? Credence’s mind was numb and buzzing simultaneously, unable to move or create a thought since as soon as it began, something else replaced it.

Newt was firing and deflecting too quickly for the others to interfere. This was not like his duel with Theseus; that was a controlled exploration. This was violent.

Newt’s head was knocked back, his free hand catching an immediate stream of blood running from his nose over his lips. His fingers lifted for him to see the crimson on his fingers.

Too much happened simultaneously.

An unspoken spell flew from Newt’s wand despite its not being pointed at Grindelwald. With him distracted, Newt had the time to turn and Credence could have sworn Newt was looking at him. His wand moved. Tina flew into Queenie as if he had thrown her, and then his wand was pointed directly at them.

“N—!” Credence tried to scream. He knew the feeling of disapparating too well, and its suffocating suction was surrounding him, all of them. The last thing he saw was Newt being knocked off the cliff’s edge.

*******

They traveled so long that Credence thought he was drowning.

When darkness finally gave way to a mild, sunny day, he only had a moment to see the curly vines of grape trees around him, to hear the barking of a dog.

“Credence!” Tina exclaimed as he thrashed violently. Queenie pulled the fabric off of him but jumped back for Jacob to catch her.

“The feather! It’s Newt’s feather!” she cried as Credence screamed with electricity pulsing through him. He barely registered her words and set upon the task of removing his clothes, trying to find where Newt had slipped the thunderbird feather into his garments. Shirt and waistcoat littered the grass as he felt like his heart was tearing—

Credence managed to kick off his shoes and the pain ceased. Trembling with static that crackled in his hair, Credence looked at the shoe which was tumbling over the grass, leaping with electricity. It took him a second to remember through his pain what the feather was, and what made it blaze.

His head fell into his hands, where he screamed and screamed and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it’s your friendly, neighborhood author, here to tell you a shit storm’s coming (: La la la~~~full speed ahead.
> 
> Also I'll explain the card reading eventually.


	28. Will We Die, Just a Little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait :)

Credence stared at the empty wine bottle, his head resting on his stacked fists. The glass seemed to barely contain the electric storm within, the veins jaggedly licking across the glass.

He blinked when a different glass was set in front of him. His eyes burned from being open too long. “You shouldn’t be in here with it,” Harold said roughly.

Tina and Queenie collectively sighed from their places around the kitchen island with Credence, who observed how the water was not…water. “What is this?”

“Tea. With some help,” Harold explained. “I had to blast you rather hard to make you sleep.”

The ache in Credence’s head confirmed it. After arriving in the French vineyard, everything had quickly gone black. He had awoken the following day, angry and panicked that they had made him sleep for so long.

“We have to go back!” he had pleaded, but they all looked how he felt.

“We can’t, honey,” Queenie cried silently.

Tina seconded, “I don’t know how Newt apparated us so far. It’s not really possible; that’s why port keys exist. He and Grindelwald are long gone.”

They now sat at the island watching the feather, which Harold had managed to extract from underneath the sole of Credence’s shoe. Jacob gently drummed his bandaged hand on the wooden surface. Credence had been told it splinged, but Harold had patched him up and bandaged his fingertips all the way to his elbow.

“You need to try and relax,” Tina said softly when he did not touch the potion, but she looked as if she too had hardly rested.

“Newt came to me when I was in danger,” Credence answered instead. “ _A bit of magic_ , he said. Just a bit of magic and he apparated right to where I was. How did he do it? Why can’t I do the same for him?”

The corners of Tina’s mouth turned down. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know… I don’t know half the things Newt does.”

*******

Newt landed roughly on the carpet, his voice escaping as his chest heaved. Above him, Grindelwald was equally winded as he strode around the room, catching his breath. “You do keep a good stride, Mr. Scamander. But try to remember I am not a young man anymore.”

“If cruelty is a young man’s game then perhaps you should abandon it,” Newt said, not daring to get up. His eyes followed his wand in Grindelwald’s hand.

Gellert was not amused. With a movement of his wand, Newt was lifted upright so Gellert could address him properly. He flapped a handkerchief out of his coat and began wiping Newt’s lips and chin of blood. “This is merely the start, I can tell. You are going to make things very difficult for me.”

Newt felt the thud of his heart in his chest, both from watching Grindelwald tend to him but also from running. After he had been knocked from the cliff, he had apparated deeper into the valley to break his fall, but Gellert was not to be underestimated when it came to a physical chase.

Newt’s head jerked slightly to the side as he finished, avoiding his touch. “Thank you,” he voiced reluctantly.

“Of course. This is, after all, not my home. I won’t have you making a mess.”

Newt’s features slowly opened as he absorbed the room anew. It was expensively furnished, and by someone with a preference for darker colors despite the light marble columns and mantle. It was a parlour of some sort. The windows were covered by thick, midnight blue drapes. “Where are we?”

“A like minded individual has been kind enough to open his home to me,” Gellert replied. The handkerchief flew through the air like a bird, diving into the fireplace that bloomed with crackling flames.

“Kind or coerced?” Newt returned.

That lilac eye fixed on him. “Is it difficult for you to believe people truly share my views?”

“No. It is not strange to believe wizards are suppressed into hiding,” Newt granted. “But it is wrong to think people like you aren’t outnumbered six to one.”

That smile was on Gellert’s lips. “It has not been a challenge of convincing people that we are the superior race, more so of finding the ones who already know the truth and showing them how vast our numbers are. That we are not wrong, simply silenced. We are not silent anymore.”

“Violence makes a mess long before it solves anything,” Newt refused.

“True,” Gellert acquiesced as he removed his coat and hung it off the back of a chair. “But how many countries have flourished after a fire enabled them to rebuild anew? New things cannot grow if the old and rotting remains are still above them.”

“Is this the argument you tell people? That we’re stuck in an older generation’s mindset and those people simply need to be put aside?”

“No, it would be asking too much to request people to kill or lock up precious mummy and daddy,” Gellert said with some mirth. “You misunderstand. Wizards are hardly the ones who need killing, unless they get in the way. I have been at this a long time. One grows impatient. Which brings me to you.”

He rotated smoothly and closed the distance to where Newt hovered barely over the ground, the balls of his feet on the carpet but not his heels. “Before we get started, have you had time to think over what I said? I am interested in your views on death.”

Newt blinked, perplexed as he thought back to the only occasion Grindelwald could have told him anything. “Will we die…just a little.”

“Yes,” he smiled softly. “What do you think?”

“We’re always dying,” Newt replied. “It’s rather a consistent end for all of us.”

“Yes,” Gellert repeated. “Ironic, isn’t it? How there is such a subtle difference—no difference, you could say—between living and dying.”

“That does not justify you killing people,” Newt rephrased.

Gellert laughed. “I have not actually killed that many people. Quite the contrary, I move them out of my way. If this involves death, that is circumstantial.”

“And you’ve been at this so long you can’t tell the difference,” Newt finished quietly.

He was statuesque as Gellert began unbuttoning the topmost buttons of his shirt and removed his waistcoat entirely. “We are not in wholly different positions. Think of your creatures. You want better lives for them. Lives unobstructed and unsuppressed by human idiocy. I want the same things, but for those of magical birth. And really, most of the harm magical creatures, human or otherwise, come to, is equally caused by muggles.”

“I do not wage war against those who abuse animals,” Newt declined.

“Then you’re slow.”

“And less psychotic.”

Gellert laughed. “I am so sorry I undervalued you. But if we are always dying, then we shouldn’t waste time. Can you breathe more easily now? At the very least, you’ll be wanting access to your lungs before I take it away.”

“You’re going to suffocate me, then?” Newt asked.

“No, how archaic,” Gellert refused. “Do you know the muggles still do such things to coerce information out of people? They simulate drowning to make their victims suffer; I suppose it is what they consider to be the worst death, and simulating it works to grasp information.”

He watched Newt’s face for a reaction. He both got it and did not. Newt clearly understood what he implied, but that was all. Gellert nodded gently. “Good. Good…sometimes they quake before they even see my wand. You’re smart, and you’re brave, Mr. Scamander. I’m sorry you do not agree with me, for your creatures would be safe in the world I am creating. However I will give you another opportunity to give me what I wish for. Let’s start with this: what languages do you know?”

“French and English, with a poor showing of German, Mandarin, and Arabic,” Newt supplied quietly as Gellert lethargically paced around him.

“Good. You’re not a liar. I was confused originally, during my interrogation as Percival Graves. I couldn’t read you at all, then a little digging, more of a page flip, really, showed your bilingual background. I am better prepared for you now. Next: you spent a good amount of time with Albus Dumbledore.”

“He helped me finish school,” Newt responded.

“That is putting it mildly. How else would you know the spells he himself created?”

“I never realized they were his own,” Newt admitted.

Gellert chuckled behind him. Newt took a moment to try and discern details around the room, but the pictures on the mantelpiece were unknown figures to him; painted miniatures that barely moved with magic, they were so old. A larger painting of a woman dressed in black with dark green eyes occasionally glanced at him, but her features never moved from their indifference. Wherever he was, it was a house familiar to cruelty.

He turned his head to see Grindelwald. “If you know they are his own spells then you must know them as well.”

Gellert was distinctly silent. Then, “Albus is always creating. A genius holed away in a school has to have some release. You have not only spent a good length of time with him, but have earned his trust and visited him in recent months. I am curious what Albus has been up to.”

“I couldn’t say.”

“You’ve said that. You were modest before but I wonder if you are lying now.”

“You’ve already decided I am not a liar.”

“Things change with the right incentive. The best thing about genius is it needs attention. Albus always did like showing off. What has he shown you?”

But Newt shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Mr. Scamander,” Gellert faced him. “I do not have the patience to wear you down gently. The more you keep, the more pain you will feel.”

“Perhaps you should send him an owl,” Newt suggested. “He can answer far better than I. You know exactly where he is. You’re not playing fair.”

That smirk returned to Gellert’s face. “What has inspired such loyalty? That he gave you a refuge after being expelled?”

“I think you underestimate the effectiveness of being clueless,” Newt said with a genuine chuckle. “Albus is not foolish enough to share anything that could be used against him.”

“There is a reason I have not bothered with the imperius charm,” Gellert switched. “It can be evaded. Did you know? Strong minds, clever minds, like yours, can deflect it. Easily too! It’s almost laughable. So I must use other methods.”

“And you played Percival Graves for weeks if not months,” Newt countered. “I wonder if it is not a matter of patience…but lack of time.”

Gellert held his gaze, and then the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Either way, _crucio_.”

*******

Credence felt the sharp pricks before he saw the bowtruckle on his arm. Tina’s head lifted off her hand as Pickett looked at them all before angrily bubbling and popping.

“I’m sorry,” Credence said. “He’s not here.”

A high pitched sound of alarm burst from him as Pickett looked among them again and Credence felt him crawl up his arm, over his shoulders, and down the other side before he began what could only be described as screaming.

“Oh, uh,” Queenie exclaimed. “Here, maybe wear this?”

She shoved Newt’s blue coat at him. Credence had to lift a more and more distressed Pickett off of him to get the garment on, but once returned to the sleeve, the creature sluggishly moved over his chest. Pickett could be heard grieving within the confines of Newt’s coat.

“I thought he would at least have Pickett,” Tina said forlornly. She scrubbed her hands over her face, looking just as lost as Pickett sounded. “This only gets worse.”

“Pickett was how ya got out of MACUSA, right?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah,” she said, letting her head fall back into her hand. “Bowtruckles pick locks. He freed Newt while I was…he saved our lives. Newt saved my life.”

Then she realized, “Does he still have the sweeping evil?”

“He always keeps it on him,” Credence confirmed.

Hope had returned to Tina’s eyes but she did not lift her head. “It worked once to distract Grav-Grindelwald, but…I don’t know if Newt will risk it.”

“Sorry, the what?” Harold voiced from his place at the stove. As he could not move them from the thunderbird feather, he had taken on the task of keeping them fed and hydrated.

Credence now kept his wand on the counter, which he used to open his case and summoned Newt’s book. “This.”

“Ooh,” Harold cooed, setting his elbows on the table as he read Newt’s notes and perused through the coloured drawings.

Behind them, the fireplace bloomed green, where Claude and Theseus stepped out. “Any word?” Claude said raggedly, as if he had been running.

Jacob frowned. “Word? Should we be expecting an owl or somethin’ from this guy?”

Theseus replied, “If he wants to get in touch, he will find a way. That’s assuming he doesn’t just kill Newt and move along. But if he’s kidnapped him, then Newt serves a purpose.”

“He wants me,” Credence said quietly. He felt Theseus’s eyes land on him, and when he looked up to meet them, Theseus nodded ever so slightly and let the matter drop.

“Well he’ll have a hell of a time getting to you. Alas, we need to wait for him to make a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Tina repeated.

“The man’s imperfect,” he confirmed. “Any time we’ve been able to capture him was because he made a mistake. If Newt apparated you all here, he was forced to take Newt on a whim. He’s already halfway through with his blunder already. Newt’s not stupid.”

“We’re not really waiting on _chance_ , are we?” Credence uttered. “We could be waiting forever. Newt needs us now.”

“Take a breath, lover. We’re still waiting on the star of this show,” Theseus sassed. “Unfortunately she has a slower way of going about things.”

“Charlotte?” Queenie realized.

“Thing about the Scamanders,” Theseus began as he held up his hand. On it was something shiny like a ring. “We are expert stalkers.”

Claude could not but chuckle at that, and pushed his ear to reveal a cartilage piercing of a watch cog. Harold harrumphed as he too revealed a thin braid in his beard on which a cog was knotted. “Batty broad. It’s a wonder that damn watch still ticks.”

“She keeps tabs on her men, is all,” Claude laughed. “I’m pretty sure Credence has one as well, don’t you?”

His features softened as he nodded. “It’s in my case.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll find a way to put it on you,” Theseus remarked, “whether you’re ready for it or not. She’s been trying to make Newt pierce his ear for ages.”

“He wears it around his neck,” Credence recalled. “She can track him with it?”

“Depends,” Theseus admitted. “She can’t see his location when he is in his case, but if Grindelwald makes the right mistake, she will know where he is in a broad, but effective sense. That is all I need.”

Claude went to the stove, however Harold jolted from his place to bark, “Chef, get away.”

Claude had smelled the pot’s contents and returned, “Have you added the onions?”

“I know how to make coq au vin!” he retorted, taking the spoon from Claude’s hand he was using to taste the broth.

“Just because you can make it faster, doesn’t mean you’ll make it right,” Claude responded.

“This is my _grandmere’s_ recipe, and I don’t care if you’re married to my sister, I’ll take a bit of your scalp and wear it like a charm if you touch my pot!”

“Considering she’s on her way here, I think she’ll be more upset by you botching the dish instead of wearing my hair,” Claude sassed with remarkable calm. Harold was like a bear compared to the long copper length that was Claude. Tina and Queenie managed to giggle and Jacob exhaled with more ease. Credence wanted to appreciate the moment for what it was, but watching Claude work at the stove, seeing the set of his shoulders, was too much like Newt’s frame. Credence’s gaze lowered once more to the feather, which had settled into a calm, albeit blue, dormancy.

The food was difficult to eat but Credence knew by Queenie’s hand on his arm and Tina’s constant glances that they would nag until he finished it. He was sure it was delicious, though he barely tasted the onions, mushrooms, and chicken. Theseus came and left and was back again by the time the fireplace quickened with green and Charlotte strode into the room. She did not even look up, so intently did she gaze at her open watch.

Theseus stood immediately, going to her side and murmuring something deeply in French. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. “Unknown… _Unknown_. It spins and always lands there, but never _Dead_. I need my grandmother’s ball.”

“Agh, mamma—” Theseus began to groan, but Credence had never seen a woman look like the expression she gave him. Whatever it was, it shut Theseus right up and he rushed up the stairs to look for something.

Harold chuckled, “ _Grandpere_ used to offer grandmamma one of his balls to use instead of the crystal one, remember?”

But Charlotte’s eyes flicked on at him. He coughed and looked for something to occupy himself. The nearest thing to hide behind was Newt’s book.

Credence was not sure what he was expecting, but for some reason the white sphere with cracks and cloudy interior, like it was simply frozen water, was not it.

The painting chirped with the ball’s previous owner saying, “Oh, _cher_ , you will cleanze it, won’t you? Iz been so long zince it was charged.”

“Hush, nan,” Theseus responded as he continued past her painting to hand the sphere to his mother. Without a wand, her bare hand lifted it from his grasp while the other summoned herbs. Cabinets opened and jars unscrewed as various green particles, whole leaves, and dried petals followed her out the front door.

“Where’s she going?” Jacob exclaimed.

“To divinate,” Theseus sighed as he landed in a chair by the fireplace, now crackling with warm orange flames. “I don’t know why she bothers. No one in the family has a drop of Seeing ability.”

“Let her cope with her methods,” Claude silenced.

Credence and the Goldsteins, however, moved to the windows, where they could see the herbs burning in the darkness. “Is she burning it?” Jacob wondered as the flames and herbs swirled around the crystal ball. The fire illuminated her face and glowed within her fingertips.

“Cleansing it,” Theseus droned. “Because rocks need, you know. Cleansing. With smoke….”

“Theseus,” Claude finished.

Credence felt himself agreeing with Theseus, however, and ever more impatient as he returned to his seat. Occasional veins of electricity jumped from the feather. “How did he do it?” he sighed, stacking his jaw on his fists once more.

“Do what?” Theseus remarked.

“In New York, I accidentally made a pub explode. Since I was in danger, Newt’s half of the feather reacted, and he used it to get to me.”

“What?” Theseus was on his feet. “You’re just telling me this now?”

“Tina’s an auror,” he defended, “and she doesn’t know how he did it. Are you saying you do?”

Theseus’s mouth opened, and then closed. “Not quite, but it’s a start,” he relinquished. His own gaze fell on the feather. “Maybe I should give you a poke so he’ll at least know his sacrifice was worth something.”

Something sparked in Credence’s memory, but he could not place it as something else closely followed it. “Would you teach me how to duel?”

“When it is light out,” Theseus agreed easily. “I won’t have you accidentally blowing a leg off just because it’s dark.”

“Or ruining my groves,” Harold growled with the silvery blanket in his hands. “Is no one going to tell me how the hell Newt made a bloody invisibility cloak?”

But all of their heads turned when the door opened for Charlotte to come inside. One hand held the quartz ball as if ready to throw it while the other was held to her chest. Claude was immediately by the sink, soaking a towel.

“Mamman?” Theseus said softly, as if to break her daze.

“Get Albus,” she ordered. Claude was beside her, gently taking her hand and placing a dry cloth on it while the wet one wiped her arm. Credence realized she was bleeding.

“Why?” Theseus uttered.

“Because all I see is fire and birds,” she said quietly, angry and lost.

*******

“Breathe, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt’s lungs felt bruised, as if the sacks of air had hardened and were unable to expand. He 

felt the lack of oxygen throb in the arteries of his throat before he heard himself sucking in air jarringly as the haze of the room spottily came back into focus.

“Take a moment,” Gellert breathed, sounding equally out of breath.

Newt’s vision cleared over the carpet on which he was sprawled. His hand was open, his curled fingers twitching beside his face as if testing mobility, but he could feel shock overcoming his system. The numb tingles of his body trying to avoid the pain.

_How did I apparate separate entities?_

_Just tell him._

_What could he have to apparate anyway? . . . . . . . . . how big. . . . . . . . . . ._

_Just tell him._

_The transfiguration of magic itself._

_I should tell him what the professor taught me. . . . . . . . Albus . . . mais plus jeune. . . . . ._

_Tell him._

“Please don’t put thoughts in my mind,” Newt rasped. Gellert’s chuckle was distant as thoughts that were his own and memories that were not settled like silt through his mind.

“That man certainly made a steel vessel of your head,” Gellert praised. “It’s like a race horse’s heart, beating me back and forth between bloody chambers.”

“Care for a break?” Newt rasped, but he could not tell if he spoke in English or otherwise.

“ _Nein_ ,” Gellert exhaled vacantly. He made a good show of not sounding winded, but as Newt’s vision managed to focus upward, he could see the shine of sweat and the engorged veins in Gellert’s forehead and throat. “Although you do make me feel something almost like regret. You could replace ten of my colleagues.”

“How far back were your plans pushed because Albus abandoned you?”

Gellert fell silent. Newt’s sight was like a spyglass constantly twisting in and out of focus as the man stared down at him. Gellert crouched closely over him, the rustle and creak of raiment loud as warmth and shadow caved around him. “Don’t try to peer inside my head. It won’t work.”

“I don’t have to,” Newt said. “You feel something every time you push his name into my head. You feel abandoned.”

“Hardly,” he corrected. “He and I were allies a long time ago. Now he is against me and I have hundreds to take his place.”

“Not very good ones, apparently.”

“Whatever gets the task done.”

“So they are disposable to you.”

“Not all of them.”

Newt felt his lips pull but laughter made his head ache like the floor was trembling. “You have your favourites too.”

“Does it bother you that we are similar?”

“No. Albus is better than you, and that is why you hurt. You’re afraid.”

Gellert’s face was statuesque. Eventually he looked out the window, which now let in the white, cloudy morning light. Newt had tried to see out of it, but only a wall of forest greeted him.

Gellert tapped the end of his wand against his lips. “Fear…is something else, something I no longer sow and fester. I have an awareness.”

“That you’ll lose,” Newt realized. “You’re not…you wouldn’t want Albus’s dueling spells if you were not preparing to fight him…or for him to leave the school. But…what are you going to do that will draw him out of Hogwarts?”

Newt’s breath shuddered involuntarily as a finger trailed over his jawline. “I don’t miss Albus, because I am disappointed. I’ve done so much already and there he stays. I thought he might come out to save his favourite student…do you know how much time has passed?”

Newt’s eyes flicked to the window, but he made no answer.

“Go ahead. Guess.”

“You can’t turn my thoughts against him.”

“The doubt is already there. I don’t need to do anything. Albus’s lack of action is enough. Go on, guess.”

He swallowed. “Two days. Three.”

“Not bad,” Gellert acquiesced. “In over fifty long hours he couldn’t pluck himself from his enchanted stone walls. His great mind hasn’t seemed energized to puzzle out where you are.”

“Perhaps it’s too easy,” Newt tested. “The easiest things are overlooked by complicated minds.”

Then, Gellert smiled. An unnerving grin that Newt could not predict. “Simplicity, yes. The most underrated tool.”

He twirled his long wand through his fingers, the large knots making it easy for fiddling. “Tell me this at least: why are you fighting me? No, I don’t mean the big picture. I mean right now. Why do you persist in creating agony for yourself? You could easily stop hurting. Albus is not coming, so stop waiting.”

Newt did laugh, then. It hurt, but behind the pain was a light feeling. Newt clung to it as he said, “I’m not waiting for Albus.”

“Mmm,” Gellert grunted. “I understand… Your brother, perhaps? The fancy auror and Britain’s finest.”

Newt snorted. “Fancy. He’s a prat.”

Gellert shared his mirth. “You can’t be waiting for Credence, loyal though he is. Such sweet, innocent loyalty.”

“I can make that easier for you, “Newt provided. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a moment. The boy is easy to figure out, so I’m sure there are only a handful of places he could be, and you’ll tell me soon.”

“He is not a child.”

“Nor is he a virgin,” Gellert agreed, but not mockingly. “Do you think I somehow missed the devotion that fills your head and heart? The glimpses of your lovemaking and the lingering smell of his skin in your memory? The lovely fool used to be devoted to me, but I made mistakes.”

Newt gazed at him. “Plural?”

Gellert was silent for a long time before he seemed to reach a decision. “Have you told him of the Peverell brothers?”

Newt’s features opened with vacancy. “No?”

“Hm,” he nodded as his thumb warmed circles over the hilt of his wand. Newt watched it move, round and around…searching and failing to understand the random mention of the fairytale…but his mind thundered with tremors of agony. His eyes shuddered closed as tears slid over his temple and nose. He shivered anew as a warm palm with cold fingertips moved over his forehead, almost as if in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt your beloved more than he makes me. In fact, he’ll hardly feel anything at all.”

Newt’s eyes opened.

“I don’t expect that his obscurus is lingering,” Gellert said conversationally, though his voice was quiet. “But I don’t need it anymore. Knowledge is real power, when it takes the right form. The form of a wizard abused by muggles. A wizard telling the world how his muggle mother beat him for what he is and all other muggles remained silent as they watched. How a monstrosity caged something as beautiful as him to the extent that he made something that had supposedly extinct for centuries. I wonder how strong non-magic protection acts can be once wizards flock to Credence’s cause.”

The hand remained light on his head, but Newt felt his skull weighed down as he jerkily shook his head. “You can’t make him do that.”

“But I can,” Gellert purred stoically. “As I said, he won’t feel anything. Veritaserum is that effective. Unfortunately long to brew, as I have not any supply to use on you.”

A rough sound of laughter escaped Newt as more tears leaked free. “You can’t.”

“I will,” Gellert countered. “If you want, I can be gentle with you so I can simply show you to him and he will speak of his own free will.”

“Go back to Albus,” Newt remarked. “You’ll have a better time of it.”

Gellert laughed. “As you wish.”

*******

Everyone, even Credence, rushed to their feet when Albus Dumbledore walked through the fire of the Scamanders’ home. They had moved there so Claude, Charlotte, and Theseus could better go about their duties to the hippogriffs and the Ministry. Credence had not expected Albus to show up personally, especially through the closed floo network.

“How long?” he asked tersely.

“This is the fourth day,” Theseus replied as Albus looked around and made a lap around the room before opening the door and peering outside. “What are you looking for?”

Albus did not answer. He paused but a moment and turned back into the house. He strode silently to the coffee table where Credence had placed the feather. Albus did not look at him as he picked up the bottle and was already stepping into the fire—

Credence yanked him back by his elbow. “You can’t take that!”

Albus’s blue eyes were ice. “Have you found it?”

“What?” he stammered.

“The pendent,” Albus growled, suddenly standing over him.

Credence stood his ground despite lack of sleep. “No. I’ve tried. It’s not anywhere in mine or Newt’s cases.”

Albus turned again, this time only stopping for Charlotte. “Fire and birds, Albus.”

He turned and looked at her. “Yes,” he said, and vanished as quickly as he had come.

“What the hell,” Tina burst, earning snickers from Theseus.

*******

Newt could not feel his body.

He only felt pain.

And the soft brush of fire.

Fire…

Warmth…

And…wet?

Opening his eyes was agony, the only solace being night in a room with no fire in the grate. But the black eyes peering into his glowed as if embers were deep inside that skull.

“F-Fawk…” Newt tried, but could not.

The phoenix on his chest moved briefly with his cough and tremors before its talons repositioned its weight. Fawkes was crying into his eyes, the silver tears molten and thick; the moment they sank into his irises, his own tears slid into his ears. Sharp tingles vibrated through his eyes, seeping through his skull until everything was numb.

Fawkes was singing. A beautiful, sad purr in his chest that reverberated through Newt’s sternum as the creature settled on his chest, keeping Newt warm.

Newt could not sleep, but Fawkes stayed with him until the dawn began to filter through the window, then he took flight in a cloud of flames, vanishing from the room. Newt was not burned apart from the sudden pinch of panic and loneliness as Gellert reentered the room. He did not sound refreshed: his interrogation taking its toll on the both of them.

“Tell me.”

Newt croaked something like a “No.”

Gellert snapped and Newt gazed up the length of a wand pressed between his brows. “I can _break you_. I can shatter you into less than a shell of a man.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Then tell me everything.”

“No.”

“Where is Credence?”

“No.”

“What is Albus’s plan?”

“No—uhahAH!”

His voice was gone. Newt could hear his own skull beating against the floorboards as loudly as if the carpet was not there to cushion it. He wondered when his teeth would crack from clenching his jaw, but he doubted he would notice in the wake of _this_.

“…..hich ne…” he breathed.

“What?” Gellert exclaimed as he raked a hand through his hair, pacing the room.

“Which…one….”

Newt’s head lolled as Gellert commanded his body to stand upright. “Speak. Clearly.”

“Peverells,” Newt breathed. Drool slipped past his lips. “Which…is...your favourite?”

Gellert gazed at him, and then that soft smile fell over the wand he held at Newt. “Bravo, Mr. Scamander. Bravo.”

Newt’s body fell in a heap as Gellert left the room once more.

When he next opened his eyes, a soft, gentle hand was dragging through his hair, tingling his hairline almost pleasantly. The sun was still up, or maybe it had gone down and had risen again, he did not know. It hurt his eyes and he moaned for it all to stop.

Then a shadow crossed over his eyelids, allowing them to open ever so slightly…

“No,” he wept hoarsely.

“Newt?”

“No,” he repeated. “Not with her.”

“Newt…I’m not an illusion. You’re in my house. Well…my uncle’s house.”

His head shook weakly, not enough to remove her hand. “No.”

“ _Le chateaux in francais, tu te souviens_?”

He could not see her for all the tears leaving his eyes. “ _Pas toi_.”

“ _C’est moi_ , Newt!” she pleaded, but as soon as her hands held his face, she realized, “You’re…right. I can’t save you. I am cruel to…I can’t ease this, but I’m trying—”

She gasped as fire bloomed over Newt. Fawkes landed on top of him and screeched at her, ushering her aside. “Sshh!” she tried, desperately covering her ears. “You can’t be here!”

Newt’s hair moved with the beating of his threatening wings. Newt could only let his eyes fall shut as he heard her scuffle around the room before he felt something slide into his pocket.

“I’m sorry, Newt. I’m so sorry. This is all I can do. I’m sorry…for everything.”

But his wand slid against something in his pocket. Something tied to the belt loop he kept hidden by a corner of shirt he purposely failed to tuck in. She pulled it, and her breath shuddered. “Why do you have this? Newt, _why do you have this?_ ”

His eyes cracked open and he saw her beautiful face more clearly. “Is it real?”

“What?” she exclaimed.

“His wand. Is it real?”

He knew what fear was, and her eyes were full of it, answer enough. “Yes.”

His eyes simply closed as Fawkes was suddenly gone in another burst of flame as she hastily pushed his wand and more back into his pocket. She was standing with her hands clasped when Gellert entered the room with someone else’s footsteps behind him.

“Leta.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry for not coming to you.”

“I don’t need a greeting. A request for permission would be nice.”

“Shall I go?” she asked.

“No, you’re already here. Is he as you remembered?”

“No. You’ve taken everything from him.”

“Not everything, surely. He remains stubborn until the last. What did we hear just now?”

“I came in to see a phoenix on his chest, sir,” she lied, partially. “It tried to attack me and then vanished inside fire.”

Gellert released a brief cough of mirth, before the man beside him uttered, “It is no secret that Albus Dumbledore keeps a phoenix with him at all times.”

Gellert was silent as he strolled around Newt, coming into his vision.

“Is this boy you’re looking for so important?” the newcomer said: a voice male and authoritative with something slimy like pride.

“He will catalyze everything for us,” Gellert confirmed. “And I have something of a fondness for him. Call me possessive.”

There was something like silent judgment in the air before it changed and the man said submissively, “Sir.”

“You haven’t told them,” Newt whispered suddenly. Leta’s eyes widened only briefly but Newt was watching Gellert. “You haven’t told them,” he repeated.

“A man’s wishes are his own,” the newcomer growled. Leta’s uncle, Newt guessed, but they looked nothing alike. A pureblood of relation but not a Lestrange, exactly. Maybe a Black, or an Avery.

“Tell them,” Newt smiled.

Gellert matched it. “Has Albus’s sudden loyalty inspired you? I suppose you would think the arrival of a bird as monumental. Why?”

“Ariana,” Newt said, and watched the smile twist into malice. “Secrets secrets secrets…”

Newt was wrenched upward by his collar. “You don’t know anything. I told you, you can’t see inside my head.”

“Careful the tracks you lay. I’ll follow them back. Two way streets,” he almost sang. “Albus, Albus, Albus…and Aberforth, and Ariana. Destroy your secrets, but not without mine.”

“He’s cracked,” the man declared. The way his mouth frowned under his hooked nose illustrated his distaste for Newt. Like he was soiling the rug.

“Tell them, if you can,” Newt prompted. “If you can’t trust your allies with your secrets, why should I fear you with mine?”

“Trust is more powerful than secrets,” the man growled, earning a smirk from Gellert.

“Indeed, although at this stage, it is perfectly all right with the members of this room knowing.”

Newt watched that smirk of triumph as he was set back onto the floor. He watched Gellert’s lips part, his jaw lower…

And then nothing.

It was like the air had left his lungs. Nothing came out. Not a word. Not a sound or spit of air.

Gellert blinked, utterly confused before he rapidly pieced something together and turned flabbergasted eyes back down to Newt.

Without warning, Newt flew through the air, crashing not into a wall, but straight through it. Out of one room and into another, then another, until he crumpled to the marble floor with the elaborate crowning from the ceiling.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Gellert bellowed.

“Sir! Sir, please,” was heard distantly before Gellert screamed “ _CRUCIO!_ ”

Newt hovered in the air, thrashing, but as he trembled, so did Gellert. His white hair was alight with madness as Newt landed on the floor, only because a swirl of flame separated the line of his wand. Gone even before it had fully materialized, Gellert watched a single, pale thing waft to the floor: a piece of paper.

He picked it up and uttered, “Well, Mr. Scamander. You are the magical creature expert. Do tell me how a bird with only healing tears and a unique birth got past the medieval fortifications of this house?”

But Newt was motionless on the ground. Livid and impatient, Gellert wrenched him from the floor, but not without ripping open his shirt and revealing the tiny cog and golden feather hanging low around his neck.

Frowning, Gellert lifted them for inspection. “What are these?”

Newt was unable to answer. Blood dripped out of one of his ears and his nostrils. Leta made a sound behind him. “It...it’s used for tracking.”

“Tracking?” her uncle exclaimed. “Dumbledore’s managed to--How many aurors are on their way here right now?”

Gellert, however, had turned back to the piece of paper and was laughing. “ _Put him back where you found him._ Very well. You’re rubbish to me now. You can be another of those useless trinket in his precious collection.”

*******

“I’m coming.”

“You’re absolutely not,” Tina ordered. “What Newt wants most is you safe.”

“Let him go.”

Everyone turned to Albus. They had since moved back to Harold’s estate once Albus’s plan was revealed. Dangerous was putting it kindly.

“Why aren’t you coming?” Jacob cornered.

“The second I show my face, Gellert will never show his or Newt’s,” Albus countered, his gaze distant across the grape trees. “This is a game you don’t know how to play.”

“A game,” Jacob repeated disdainfully. “Yeah, sure. You sound like those big guys makin’ the decisions over who dies in the war.”

Albus was silent as Queenie voiced, “It can’t be as simple as him returning Newt all because you asked. That doesn’t sound like him.”

“It can be if he does not need Newt anymore, and Credence will be too wonderful a surprise.”

The room was silent before Jacob grimaced, “Hell. You had to phrase it like that?”

“Bait?” Tina stormed.

“I’m fine with it,” Credence countered.

“No you’re not!”

“If you’re quite done arguing,” Theseus sassed. He strode passed them impatiently. “Let’s do this, Albus.”

“Credence doesn’t know how to duel!” Tina exclaimed.

“No one’s dueling. This is the second time I’ve had to place my bets on a dead body. The goal is to retrieve him. That’s all. Let’s get this going, please. The only chance we have at getting Newt alive is by being quick about it. I, at least, am putting a bit more stock in Credence being the only calm one here.”

Tina was shocked into silence as she gazed at Credence with new eyes. Sure enough, everyone buzzed with energy, all except Credence. Even Albus radiated silence like a black hole, but Credence merely looked ready.

She swallowed and looked to Albus. “You’re apparating us back to the cliffs?”

His eyes were closed under his furrowed brow. When he opened them, he looked as if he had been somewhere far away from this conversation. “Queenie. You must be ready.”

“I’m a natural,” she chimed despite squeezing Jacob’s hand.

“Good luck.”

That was the only warning they got. Credence, Tina, Queenie, and Theseus were sucked from the vineyard.

The weather was oddly the same as if they had never left the road along the cliffs. Large clouds blocked the sun, casting shards of sunlight into the deep valley. Credence and the others tumbled over the grass while Theseus otherwise stepped calmly over it. “Look alive.”

He was up on his feet instantly, wand ready. Albus had never given him back his feather. He wished he had it; he felt further away from Newt than ever.

It was a jarring shock to suddenly see him. He blinked, and then there Newt was. Grindelwald strolled forward from thin air while Newt stumbled to the ground and…did not rise.

“Newt?” Tina called, but he made no movement of hearing her.

Grindelwald glanced at him. “He is a bit delicate to light. And everything else.”

Anger rippled through them, tangible, but Credence pulled his eyes from Newt to notice how unkempt Grindelwald was. He looked maniacal, his eyes too wide and his hair reaching everywhere, far from the dapper visage that had first taken Newt.

The man turned to Newt again. “Stand up. You’ve given me enough trouble for them, you ought to present yourself accordingly.”

Credence felt the electricity of his wand through his hand, like magnetic ropes binding his hand to the wood as he watched Newt lifted up like a puppet.

“Sshh…” Queenie purred in his ear. “Try and stay calm. He’s trying to enter your mind. I’m shielding you.”

Credence realized he felt a fuzzy sensation fringing his thoughts, even making his vision blur. He blinked, meeting Grindelwald’s eyes. The man’s stare was like an attack knocking the air from his chest. Credence focused on stretching his lungs with air.

“How many have you brought with you?” Theseus asked.

“Myself and Newt,” Gellert said breezily. “I am thoroughly outnumbered.”

Theseus did not look convinced. “Newt.”

But Newt’s head had sagged like the rest of his limbs. Grindelwald removed his magic, causing him to fall to his knees and then onto his side. Credence murmured to Queenie, “Can you shield his mind?”

She hesitated. “I can but...I don’t want this to become a mental duel. Surprise is the only advantage we have right now. I can try but Grindelwald needs to be distracted.”

So Credence called, “Newt.”

His shoulders twitched, like a flinch. Credence clenched his wand as Grindelwald knocked his boot against Newt’s. “He is speaking to you. Give your lover the courtesy of an answer.”

Credence felt rage flare inside but it simmered down into a slow burning energy. “Newt. Please look up.”

The seconds dragged on, long enough for terror to grip the embers in Credence’s belly. When Newt finally moved, Grindelwald was subtly surprised. Newt managed to drag himself back onto his knees, but there he stayed.

“He said, look up,” Grindelwald commanded, and Newt’s head jerked up, craned toward the sky as if fingers gripped his hair.

“Stop. Stop it,” Credence bit out. He could only glance at the discoloration of Newt’s face. The blood there.

“Easily done,” Grindelwald proclaimed.

Many things and nothing happened all at once. Grindelwald smirked maliciously at them, and after a moment of silence, frowned. Tina and Theseus glanced at each other, confused. Credence, however, felt Queenie squeeze his hand.

“Ah,” he acknowledged. “Which of you is trained in occlumency…it can’t be Credence. You may have a savage heart but you’ve soft brains.”

Instead of feeling insulted, Credence realized Queenie had just blocked a severe attack upon all of them. In his peripheral, Credence saw Tina and Theseus shift their weight, realizing it too: Grindelwald was caught off guard, and was stalling for time.

“Credence,” Queenie urged. “Look at Newt.”

He did, and felt his insides twist. Newt’s eyes looked bruised, but while his cheekbone was indigo, his eyes and the surrounding skin were flushed red. He had not slept. His lips were chapped and so was the side of his mouth. His irises shined with tears that slid streaks across his cheeks as they wandered over the treetops—

Treetops. Newt’s eyes were moving quickly over the treetops, alive and intelligent. Credence looked up and saw what he did: the waving heat of magic.

“Protect him,” he ordered, and lifted his wand.

Grindelwald blocked it easily, but was knocked back by Tina and Theseus instantly following suit. “Nhah!” Newt gasped as Grindelwald’s hold on him snapped free and Queenie’s mind encompassed him.

“ _Stand up_ ,” she whispered aloud and within.

He stumbled, planting his hands against the grass and scrambling up. Credence pulled trees like they were made of rubber down so Grindelwald had to focus in front as well as behind him while Newt rushed over the road…and further.

“NEWT!” Theseus bellowed, but his brother’s pace was already running. Credence blasted fire at Grindelwald while Theseus was otherwise too stunned to battle, but Queenie suddenly embraced him from behind.

“We have to go!”

Grindelwald was suddenly directly in front of them, reaching for Credence—

“AGH!” He jerked backward, where Alexandre was shredding his cloak tails. Grindelwald sent whips of fire from his wand, which only bounced off his face and wings. Credence realized with manic glee that he could not see what he faced.

He spared a second to watch Newt running for the cliff…and then fall over the edge, as if his energy had finally given out. He and the others ran after him, only to rear back as a colossal gust of wind threw them on their backs. Credence gasped for air as he saw sunlight through the membrane wing of Colette blocking the entire sky, and then she turned, angling herself over the valley. The last thing Credence saw before he felt Tina and Queenie grab him to disapparate, was Newt curled around one of the spikes on her back.


	29. Faith & Madness

The contrast between Albus apparating them and their own progress back to the groves was maddeningly slow; even with apparating to the nearest port key to France and then to the vineyard.

Harold followed behind his baying hound to meet them. “Where’s Theseus?”

Credence looked behind him but realized he was indeed not with them. Tina, however, heaved as she held a stitch in her side, “He…went over the cliff with Newt.”

Thick, black brows lifted toward freshly combed, ebony hair. “You better not be telling me my nephews are cracked open at the bottom of a cliff.”

Credence looked at her, “Is he a part of the secret?”

Tina thought about it. “I…hell, I don’t think I said his name, but Jacob is Newt’s secret keeper, not mine, and Newt said any Scamander can know.”

“What are you on about?” Harold growled.

Credence worked to calm the hound bounding around them as he said, “Newt has dragons.”

Harold was stoic, as if he had not heard. Credence and Tina glanced at each other. “Did…did you hear me?”

“I heard some bloody bogey about dragons,” Harold barked. “What’s that got to do with my nephews and a cliff?”

Tina sighed with relief. “He’s a part of a dragon colony. I know, it’s ridiculous, but it’s Newt. I can’t explain it. All I know is Newt and Theseus are going to land somewhere with three dragons.”

“Ah,” he grunted, crossing his arms. “And how will he dictate where three dragons fly?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Credence said impatiently, striding past him toward the house. “Charlotte can find him now.”

Credence’s heart rattled in his chest as he gripped floo powder. He had not done this on his own before, but the premise was simple enough. He stepped through the fire into the Scamanders’ kitchen. Claude entered from the living room at the commotion. “What’s happened?”

“He’s not with Grindelwald,” he assured quickly. “Theseus is with him. Charlotte should know.”

She was outside, but heard him through the open kitchen window. Claude and Credence joined her outside while her brother and the Goldsteins came through the fire. Jacob was helping her with the hippogriffs as she silently opened her watch and waited.

“ _Coming home_ ,” she read.

“Well pickle me in wine,” Harold exclaimed.

“You’re going to want to relocate the hippogriffs,” Credence said.

Claude and Charlotte looked at him curiously but did not ask further. “They don’t care for the pigs,” she said, “but they’ll have to tolerate each other. The east side of the property, now.”

Tina and Queenie each coaxed a hippogriff to follow them while Harold and Claude took two on either side. Charlotte used food to lead several at a time but it became obvious just how large the Scamander estate was. They did not make two trips before Harold bellowed, “Out of time!”

Credence felt shadow eclipse the sky and then move onward. He craned his head up but the canopy blocked the clouds. He ran for the clearing alongside Claude. Charlotte caught up with them and apparated them to it, where Alexandre and Florenc had already caught a hippogriff each and Colette was slowly spiraling toward the grass. She curled herself within the confined space, graceful despite the earth trembling beneath her weight. She snarled murderously, shocking Harold and Jacob backwards. Theseus pried Newt from her vertebra and held onto him as they fell across her wing.

“Newt!” Charlotte cried, sprinting to them with Claude. Credence’s eyes widened, terrified of Colette but watched her red eye widen at them as they rushed to their children. She visibly observed Claude and Charlotte, her nostril flaring at their scent. They tried to help Theseus and Newt up, trembling as they were from holding on in the high altitude for so long.

They stumbled and fell, a horrible sound coming from their huddle that could only be Newt as Colette slammed her wing down over them. Credence had to move to see as he heard Charlotte order, “ _Letto manifesto!_ ”

A bed bounced out of the ground, catching Newt and Theseus under the darkness of Colette’s wing. Newt was screaming, the sound broken and whimpering with failed words.

“Quiet!” Queenie urged behind Credence. “He’s sensitive to light and sound! Ah…”

“Oh god,” Tina said as Queenie’s remaining strength gave out. She and Jacob helped her into the house.

“We’re dropping like flies,” Harold worried, his own eyes looking at the sky. “The dragons broke our barriers. I need to redo them.”

He disapparated, and with remarkable speed, Credence could see brilliant beams of magic going up in the sky. Eventually the dome was back in place, and Harold was beside him once more, but then, so was Albus Dumbledore.

He arrived like he was walking through fire, but the orange and red plumage solidified into the soaring tail feathers of Fawkes flying around him. Colette’s eye found him and her lips rose in a silent snarl. Credence reached for him but Fawkes was faster, swooping before him to halt his path before the bird flew between Colette’s wing and face, revealing the clear path under her wing. Fawkes then perched on Colette’s nose, inducing her to shake him off, but he simply landed again on her snout, singing his song.

Credence watched Albus absorb it all, realizing that he could not see the dragons. He whistled a tune not unlike Fawkes’ song, and the phoenix sang back to him as Albus slowly approached. He bowed to the dragon he could not see. Colette’s growl was soft like a purr, but Fawkes sang as he flew under her wing, followed by Albus and Credence.

“Move aside, please,” Albus said quietly. Theseus sat on the bed, bundled in blankets and shivering violently as he watched his brother. Claude pulled his wife back for Albus to sit on the bed. He gently turned Newt onto his back, cradling his nape as Fawkes stood over him and…began to shed tears over his face.

Credence felt how Theseus looked. Watching Newt jerkily clutch at Albus’s arms and whimper broken French was excruciating. Albus only shushed him and stroked his temples, murmuring so low that Credence did not know if it was French or spell work.

It was too much. Credence felt nauseous as he stumbled out from under the wing. Jacob had jogged out of the house and read his expression. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong with him?”

Credence could only shake his head as he rushed toward the house, needing to escape Newt’s sounds or else he vomit or kill someone.

Queenie was not much better. On Tina’s lap she rested, while Jacob made her tea before Harold splashed suspiciously black liquid into it. “You should have some,” he handed the bottle to Credence.

He shook his head. “I’ll vomit.”

“If you can’t stomach his pain today, try again tomorrow,” Harold prompted.

Credence looked between him and the bottle, and then shook his head. “I can’t abandon him.”

“He’s not here, lad,” Harold voiced gently. “So until he is, until Albus puts some of him back together, sleep.”

Credence watched Tina’s fingers carefully pull the pins out of Queenie’s hair, already sleeping soundly. He swallowed dryly, and accepted the bottle.

* * * * * * *

It was like the very sky showed mercy the next day. Cloudy and dark, an uncharacteristically warm spring drew Credence out of the bed in which Harold had placed him. Russel the basset hound lifted his head as he left the room, but remained in the safety of the house.

Breakfast was not downstairs. Only Harold stood in the kitchen next to a steaming kettle and fragrant coffee pot. He simply raised a finger off his cup in greeting. Credence glanced briefly at Jacob, Tina, and Queenie in the living room on his way out. Queenie seemed to be in better health while the dragons were oddly tranquil; sentinels around the Scamanders.

Albus could be seen far off in the trees, pacing the property as he left the family alone. Credence’s brow furrowed as he put his hand on Colette’s face and peered under her wing. The sight was…unexpected.

Silvery-blue tendrils of smoldering herbs danced into the air from a silver bowl on the grass. Charlotte knelt by Newt’s head, her hands open on their side of his head; on one palm was the crystal ball, and in the other was another rock Credence did not recognize.

Theseus sat by Newt’s side, holding onto his forearm as if his hand was not enough. Possibly the most peculiar surprise was Claude on Newt’s other side, and the wooden beads woven around his hands holding Newt’s.

Credence’s brow furrowed gently at Claude’s lips moving ever so slightly; but he did not have magic—

“Praying,” Queenie startled him. She smiled wearily at him, her eyes exhausted. “I didn’t take Claude as Catholic, either. Then again, I think he hasn’t been since he found Charlotte.”

“Then why is he praying now?” he wondered as Jacob approached.

“People use faith when they got nothin’ else. Whatever you were raised with, whatever you know, it finds you again when you’re desperate. I guess even magic doesn’t solve everythin’.”

“Wizards got their own religions too,” Queenie said. “We used to share them with no-majs, but…”

Jacob huffed a laugh. “You tellin’ me Jesus was a wizard?”

Tina snorted behind them, “Water to wine? Come on.”

“Too bad the Romans were mostly no-majs.”

“Constantine was a wizard,” Tina intercepted. “But you don’t need magical history now.”

“Is Newt sleeping?” Credence asked.

“Not really,” Tina explained. “Albus said Fawkes numbs him. He needs to sleep…but it’s easier said than accomplished.”

They roused as Theseus strode forward, his head bowed as he raked his hair back. “You look better,” Tina appraised.

He sighed, lifting his head. “I’m not riding a dragon again if I can help it.” He looked at Credence. “If you want to sit with him, now’s the time, before Albus works on him.”

“Works on him?” Credence repeated.

“Grindelwald dug through his head…to say the least. Albus has to refill the holes. It will take a while, and he won’t let anyone interrupt, so now is the time to be with him.”

But when Credence visibly hesitated, Theseus asked, “What’s wrong?”

Credence shifted his weight. “I don’t want him to react…badly to seeing me.”

“What d’you mean?” Tina exclaimed.

Theseus understood, “Grindelwald either wasn’t smart enough or wasn’t able to turn Newt’s heart against you.” He smirked but it was without mirth. “You’d make a good auror. You know how dark wizards think. Making someone hate another in order to reveal their location is just like their methods. However Newt reacted well to your voice yesterday. Maybe that was the mistake we needed Grindelwald to make.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.”

They turned toward Albus approaching them. “When the heart is true, it is immovable. Can you imagine loving someone enough to lose your mind for them? I hope so. He did.”

He turned under the wing as Claude and Charlotte left. “He blames me,” Credence said.

“I don’t think so,” Theseus comforted, “though he probably thinks everyone who isn’t him is an idiot.”

Credence blinked at him and Theseus smirked again. “Come on, let’s try to eat something.”

Albus felt darkness cloak around him as what little light coming in glittered in Fawkes’ eyes. Newt reacted to the feeling of hands under his nape, lifting his head. “ _Gently now_ ,” Albus rumbled, setting his head on a thigh. “ _Don’t force it. Let it trickle to the surface_.”

“…lbus…”

“ _Inside_ ,” he hushed. “ _Meet me here_.”

“You need…”

“ _I need you right here_ ,” Albus soothed. Albus soothed, his thumbs catching the pained tears from his eyes. _“Too much exercise lies in the path between the brain and mouth. Meet me right here, on the surface of your thoughts.”_

 _I don’t…_ Newt began, while the words…not so much words but notions that fit the definitions of words made themselves known. _Know_ and _time_ echoed in his mind as Albus nodded gently. _I don’t know how much time…_

 _Until what?_ Albus soothed.

Newt grimaced. “He…” _has them. Or wants them._

_Wants what?_

_Pocket. Mine._

Albus looked up and the corners of Newt’s blankets folded on their own as Albus levitated the contents out of his pocket. Albus was stoic as the threads tying the dreadfully familiar pendant to his belt loop slithered out of their knot.

 _Why have you kept this?_ he asked measuredly.

 _It’s real,_ Newt gasped. _They’re all real…and he has one._

Albus met his gaze. _Which one?_

Newt swallowed as his mind filled with the sight Grindelwand’s hand twiddling the wooden knots over his fingers. _The worst one._

Albus paled. _If that wand…you shouldn’t be alive, Newt, let alone coherent._

Fawkes twittered softly over him, leaning once more over him as Newt’s trembling returned. Albus’s lips pressed together as he manifested a handkerchief to catch Newt’s nose bleed.

 _He wants Credence._ Something tingly, slightly warm, and fringed with pink sifted through Newt’s thoughts. _His secret protected me. And Colette._

Albus sighed. _I must say, as thrilled as I was at the thought of you finding a partner, your taste in romance is of a perverse variety._

There was mirth in Newt’s mind even though he could only focus on breathing as Fawkes tended to him. Albus watched the hallows pendent rotate lazily in the air. _What lunacy compelled you to take this from Credence’s clothes?_

“Your book,” Newt surprised him. _After school, when I read your books. The Peverells were among them… With muggles…it couldn’t have been Credence’s._

Albus’s lips twitched as his fingers caught Newt’s tears on his temples. For a long while, Albus let him be in silence, not so much entering the waters of his mind, but looking around it as one does an aquarium.

_Leta? I suppose it is no surprise her family is involved._

_Wand._

Albus reached for the end of wood sticking out from his pocket, and set it on the bed. _That was redeeming of her, but you cannot think that she is possible of saving._

 _I don’t,_ Newt understood, but Albus could feel how a certain weight or cloudiness was gone which had been there previously. Silence encompassed them for another period.

When Newt was strong enough, he whimpered as the agonizing memory of Gellert surfaced for Albus to see; of his efforts to unearth the method of Albus’s spells and techniques. _I couldn’t stop him._

Albus frowned, _You should not have tried. My spells do not matter. I know his mind —_

But a flicker in Newt’s mind silenced him. _I didn’t do it for you. He already broke me._

Albus swallowed thickly. _Why then?_

He was horrified by the drifting thoughts that pieced into the mosaic of Newt’s plan. How he waited for Theseus to find him, to recover his body. How he waited and taunted and absorbed every fragment of information Gellert would give him so that Albus or Queenie could extract it later. How, if he had nothing else left, he had Grindelwald to deliver. How he wanted Credence as a catalyst for war, but Newt would not grant him that.

Silent tears slid past Albus’s cheeks as he finally touched Newt’s mind. His chest lifted off the bed once, and then settled as he fell into a deep slumber.

* * * * * * *

It was beginning to rain when Credence perked up at the sound of Albus entering the house. Whether it was midday or evening, it was hard to tell as the dark sky let the first drops fall over the house. It quickly turned into sheets pelting the sink through the kitchen’s open window.

Credence’s eyes shot to the wand in Albus’s hand, tapping his jaw. “Newt’s wand. How did he get it back?”

He could not read the look Albus fixed on him; Credence might have called it sarcasm if the context fit the moment. He was not sure Albus would answer but he eventually granted, “The Lestrange family is involved. Leta was generous enough to sneak this inside his pocket before he returned to us.”

“Leta?” Tina exclaimed quietly.

“She doesn’t matter now,” Albus said as he held the wand out to Credence.

“How is he?” Queenie asked softly.

Albus glanced at the Scamanders, who were each silent as he replied, “I’ve locked him in a trance-like sleep. There is nothing more I can do right now. The good memories must eclipse the bad.”

“Trance — you put him in a wizard’s nightmare?” Credence confronted.

But Albus gave him his customary, quizzical smirk. “Nightmare? Why must it be a nightmare? Magical dreams are full of possibility, as all dreams are. Dreams are only as cruel as the mind creating them.”

“How do you know? Did you see it?” Credence interrogated.

“Yes,” he said as he stepped toward the kitchen. “You’re with him.”

He might as well have slapped Credence in the mouth and then kissed him on the lips. “I’m…” he stumbled. “He’s dreaming of me?”

“Hardly nightmarish,” Albus said as he strolled into the kitchen. “I’d personally prefer blackberry treacle. Mind if I borrow the kitchen?”

Credence’s hand covered his mouth as his eyes blurred, feeling bruised. Someone rubbed his arm, and then Tina soothed, “Go be with him really.”

Wand aloft, he moved under the rain. Colette and the others were hardly bothered; Florenc had roosted in the barn while Alexandre left trees naked as he cleaned his scales on the bark. Colette’s head was craned toward the sky before she watched Credence approach. He peered up at Fawkes on her nose before he went under her wing.

It was ironic, how the birds sang in the rain. How the dragons continued like nothing was ever wrong and the forest simply…woke up. As for Newt, he was on his side, sleeping in a natural position. Toeing his shoes off, Credence carefully lifted the blankets as if he might wake, and settled beside him.

He expected Newt to be a mess, but Credence realized his hair had been washed, and his clothes changed. A soft, collared flannel was open over his throat as a lapis lazuli jumper kept him warm and made his brunette hair more auburn than ever. Credence brushed it aside, feeling the soft strands bend and rustle against his skin.

Lifting onto his elbow, Credence kissed his cheekbone, his temple…and Newt slept on. Soft breaths between parted lips that did not shudder with pain. He kissed the side of Newt’s mouth, which was no longer chapped, but as soft as he remembered with the slight prickle of blond stubble.

And Newt slept on. Credence settled on their pillow, watching his dream pass behind his eyelids as the rain pattered over their heads. Eventually Colette’s head closed off the light as her crimson eye watched him sleep as well.

Credence’s own eyelids sagged as he let his memory drift to their nights together, and the mornings. The slippery softness of Newt’s lips under the rain and the press of his cheek in sleep. His laughter during their first night before he rolled over, but not before he grasped Credence’s wrist and pulled his arm over himself. Credence’s heart had leapt behind his eyes as Newt pulled him along his body, hips in the cradle of Credence’s pelvis and Newt’s leg entwining with his. When his heart finally sank back down, he’d had the best sleep in his life.

Credence pulled Newt’s arm over his waist now, the weight of it good and assuring. He kissed Newt once more, and let the murmur of the rain lull him into something just shy of sleep.

* * * * * * *

Newt slept for the next two days, but eventually he needed food and water. When Dumbledore declared it time to wake him, Charlotte offered, “I can put him in a stasis so his body won’t need anything for a while.”

“A good option, but it runs the risk of his mind staying the same,” Albus shook his head. “Something easy to get down, I think.”

Claude nodded and quickly made a thin soup while Albus approached Colette. Credence asked, “What do you think will happen when he wakes up?”

“Any number of things,” Albus remarked. “What do you think?”

Credence did not know what would happen, but he knew what he did not want. “I don’t want him screaming anymore.”

“Oh, quite the contrary, it would be wonderful if he did,” Albus shocked him. “You see, the worst case scenario is not his torment, it is Newt vanishing entirely. His silence would be far worse than his noise.”

Eyes widening, Credence stood in the grass while Albus continued under the wing. Colette’s head came to rest behind him, letting him lean against her while he watched Albus mutter softly over Newt.

The reaction was immediate. Newt’s legs shifted under the blankets and Credence could see a hand tangle with his hair as he grasped his head. He made a sound but Albus rubbed his back, hushing him.

Claude moved past Credence, bowl in hand. Albus raised Newt up to rest on Claude’s lap while a straw was set in the corner of his mouth. Albus left them but Credence simply bowed his head, watching the clover as he was not able to hear them but wished to be nowhere else.

“Slowly,” Claude whispered. “You’re very dehydrated.”

Newt gasped for air, slowly gulping down the soup. His eyes clamped shut but the tears still leaked free. Claude wiped some of them as he asked, “Is it any better?”

The shake of Newt’s head was gentle. Claude’s soft hand moved over his forehead. “We’re proud of you. We wish you hadn’t done it. But we are proud.”

Newt finished his gulp and whispered, “Is Credence…?”

“He’s around,” Claude chuckled, glancing up at the man in question. “He hovers.”

He nodded gently, taking another sip before he let the straw slip back into the bowl. Claude doted on him with a handkerchief, wiping his tears and waiting for Newt’s tremulous breath to ebb as he managed his pain. “He’s quite different than when you first brought him to us.”

“He’s himself,” was all Newt said.

“He is,” Claude nodded. “You know once this has passed, your mother will have a great deal to say.”

A smile flashed on Newt’s face. “ _Je n’ai pas peur. J’ai mon frère.”_

 _“Oui, oui tu fais,”_ he said as Theseus’s silhouette appeared as if summoned.

 _“Je t’aime, papa,”_ Newt said weakly.

Claude bent down to kiss his forehead. _“Dis-mois encore le matin, mon oisillon,”_ he said easily, as if this were a long standing routine between them.

The bed sagged as Theseus sat and Claude left. “Thanks for coming back,” he chimed as he took Newt’s hand. “Dunno what we would’ve done if you stayed in your head.”

The corner of Newt’s mouth twitched in a smile or a grimace, it was difficult to tell. As for Theseus, he frowned as Newt’s other hand reached across to touch his shirt. “Take him.”

Theseus blinked, not understanding. Grasping Newt’s hand, his fingers found the bulge under the sleeve, and then pushed the soft fabric up. _“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”_ he frowned, watching the bulbous thing dangle from his hand the moment he hooked a finger under its claw.

 _“Je ne suis pas assez fort,”_ Newt uttered, gasping.

Theseus’s expression pulled downward as Fawkes flew on silent feathers over Newt, cooing and singing sadly. Albus followed him in as Theseus stood to go, stopping by Credence to ask, “Do you recognize this?”

Credence’s head perked up. “That’s the sweeping evil.”

“Considering Newt had it on him, I’m assuming its name is a misnomer,” he urged.

Credence could only shrug. “It sleeps all the time. It only flies when Newt tells it to, which is usually for feeding.”

Theseus eyed him. “What does it eat?”

“Brains,” he answered, deadpan.

“And _why_ does it eat brains?”

“I don’t know why,” Credence retorted, “but its venom erases memories.”

The pointed look on Theseus’s face evaporated to be replaced with something too similar to fear and melancholy.

Credence hesitated, not sure where Theseus’s thoughts were. “Its venom was used in a storm over New York, to erase memories of magic from everyone. Jacob had forgotten for a while.”

Theseus’s head lifted as if pulled from a daydream. “Jacob? Jacob’s all right?”

It was Credence’s turn to frown. “Yes? You can ask him yourself.”

Taking that to heart, Theseus marched into the house, leaving a puzzled Credence behind. By the time he followed him in, the fireplace was already calming down, green flames blushing back to orange. Jacob appeared as perplexed as he felt.

“What did he ask you?”

“Uh,” Jacob scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just if I’d felt any sorta side effects after New York. I didn’ know what to say so I gave him your book, sorry. I figured Newt’s commentary would be better than mine but then he ran outta here like his tail had caught fire.”

* * * * * * *

It was the evening when Theseus returned, but the fire stayed green for another figure to enter the house. It took Credence an extra second to remember his wife, Jacqueline. Her features were warm and sincere despite the matching discoloration under her eyes with Theseus.

 _“Bonsoir, Claude,”_ she greeted. _“Puis-je utilizer tu cuisine?”_

 _“Bien sûr,”_ he said, opening his arm to walk her in and clean up the stove top and table.

“What’s happening?” Tina said, following them inside.

“Oh sorry,” she apologized, looking up as if she had realized she had an audience. “I think Newt’s made a delicate request of us. Me, specifically.”

“What request is that?” Tina exclaimed, looking around for someone to fill her in.

Albus answered from his seated position by the fire. “He wants to forget.”

“Forget?” she repeated.

“Thanks, love,” Jacqueline said as Theseus handed her the sweeping evil. “How exactly was the venom administered over New York?”

“Hang on,” Tina interrupted. “Are we not going to talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Theseus disagreed gently. “He and I talked about this a long time ago, and it is his request anyway. Albus?”

Heads turned toward the man with his eyes on the fire. It was a long moment before he replied, “Daggers cut less when dulled. Fading his memories will eliminate risk of his pain returning to the extent in which it exists.”

“But it won’t fix him?” Tina said dubiously.

“It is not a matter of fixing,” Albus disagreed…and confirmed.

Jacqueline provided as she pointed into Newt’s book. “It says that when diluted, it removes bad memories specifically. And Theseus said that Fawkes’s tears have provided a numbing affect for him?”

“That is correct,” Claude nodded.

To everyone’s surprise, she smiled. “I think this is manageable, then.”

“Manageable?” Queenie voiced softly. “What d’ya mean?”

“Well it is like Dumbledore said, his trauma can’t be fixed,” she said in a jarringly optimistic tone. “But from what Theseus has told me, it sounds like Newt has incredible barriers in his mind that have protected his character from being broken. So he is safe, but we need to ease his pain, and to do that, we need to take out a chapter of his life.”

Credence felt sick.

“How much?”

He felt Tina and Queenie pivot toward him. Jacqueline shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be able to specifically select anything. The only specificity I can verify is that Newt’s marked the venom as eliminating negative memories. Everything else ought to be safe.”

An elbow bumped Credence, yanking him back from his panic. Jacob was beside him. “I remembered Queenie. One for one inn’t bad.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jacqueline sidetracked. She was turning the evil this way and that, visibly confused. “I don’t suppose the venom is extracted the same way as snakes?”

Now everyone looked at Credence, who by far had the most experience in Newt’s case. He swallowed, and went to it for one of the tubes Newt had used to treat Frank. Taking the evil, he mimicked how he had seen Newt do it, and watched as glowing blue fluid trickled into the glass. Jacqueline watched very close to him, fascinated. “What did he use for the rain in New York?”

As Credence stoppered the tube, Tina answered, “It was something like that.”

Jacqueline looked at her. “A test tube? _Exactly_ like this? I need you to be certain.”

Tina nodded with a confirming glance at Queenie. “I’ve never seen him use anything else. Why?”

Jacqueline sighed, her lips flapping. “Nothing. It’s just a lot to dilute. Does anyone know the square mileage of Long Island off the top of their head? Also how long the storm lasted. I’ll need to know to be able to calculate how much to dilute this.”

Albus stood and procured a sheet of paper from thin air with the numbers she needed and she settled at the table to work. Theseus stood behind her for a while, rubbing her back. “Be careful.”

“I’m pregnant. I’m not stupid,” she said, but not unkindly before she pulled him down for a kiss and then continued working.

Credence went outside, feeling like more than rain would fall from the sky. He was surprised to find Newt awake under Colette’s wing. Fawkes stirred vocally when he fell to his knees by Newt’s head, hugging him over his collarbone. Newt’s head lifted with surprise and settled on the muscle of Credence’s shoulder. He felt Newt’s lips against his ear.

“I love you.”

Newt’s jumper caught his tears before he turned his head to feel Newt’s lips against his own. They were firm, strained from his pain. Credence pulled away to say weakly, “You’ll forget me.”

“Then I’ll fall in love again,” he whispered easily.

Credence’s fingers gripped his sweater as he swallowed his sobs. “How do you know?”

Newt nuzzled his cheek. “I know. I love you.”

He sniffed, “I love you. I do.”

Newt breathed him in, and Credence felt the water of his tears exchange cheeks.

Lying together was better when Newt was awake. He was not able to say much, but he was _there_ , in Credence’s arms, and able to hear Credence’s words.

* * * * * * *

Albus moved the bed under the night sky as wands were in the air, gently lighting the darkness. Credence watched Jacqueline pour the venom into a round, flat dish, and then lift a spider’s web of all things out of it. It glowed with droplets like dew gems, but she moved her wand over it, steam further dividing the venom across the sticky threads until she levitated a droplet so small he could barely see it.

Albus approached and handed her a smaller vial of clear liquid that glowed as well, but silver. “As requested.”

“Thank you,” she said as the vial and screw lid separated. “The venom is able to penetrate the mind better than phoenix tears, but if they travel together, then both should do their work. And now…a lot of rain.”

She held the vial steady as the tiniest glowing blue drop fell into the tears, and then soared upward as wands commanded clouds over the property…and then bloomed with umbrellas. The first drops slid past Credence’s eye level as Jacqueline narrated, “It should just be a few minutes.”

Fawkes sat on Albus’s shoulder, red and gold plumage swishing over his backside as the golden beak seemingly groomed the honey tresses. His half-moon spectacles were on tonight, golden rims glimmering faintly as his eyes never left Newt. Somewhere in the trees, Newt’s augurey was singing, but so were the robins and starlings and magpies.

The rain dwindled, and stopped. Pattering could still be heard from the bedclothes dripping over the grass and clover as Theseus approached the bed. Newt’s head turned when he came into view.

“Do you know my face?” he asked.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Je n’ai pas peur. J’ai mon frère.”  
> I am not afraid. I have my brother.
> 
> “Oui, oui tu fais.”  
> Yes, yes you do.
> 
> “Je t’aime, papa.”  
> I love you, papa.
> 
> “Dis-mois encore le matin, mon oisillon.”  
> Tell me again in the morning, my little bird.
> 
> “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”  
> What is this?
> 
> “Je ne suis pas assez fort.”  
> I am not strong enough.
> 
> “Bonsoir, Claude. Puis-je utilizer tu cuisine?”  
> Good evening, Claude. May I use your kitchen?
> 
> “Bien sûr.”  
> Of course.


	30. Lucky

“Do you know my face?” Theseus murmured.

The second it took Newt to answer was long and tangible. “It’s almost as pretty as mine.”

Charlotte and Claude swayed with relief, the latter striding forward to help Theseus get him off the bed. Newt moved as if he had slept a century, heavily stumbling and sloshing over the grass with his arms over his father and brother’s shoulders. A wave of Charlotte’s wand had his clothes steaming and then dry.

“Colette…” he lifted his head. She watched him tranquilly, a soft, rumbling hum emitting from her chest. “Here?”

“There are two others in the barn,” Theseus confirmed.

“Really?” Credence heard him say cheerfully, though exhausted. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m home.” He and the Goldsteins stayed where they were, letting the family slowly ease Newt toward the house.

“All in good time,” Claude hushed. “How do you feel?”

“Ravenous,” Newt frowned. “A slight headache — Where’s my case?”

“Just there, don’t worry,” Theseus pointed to the luggage on the grass. “Let’s get food in you first.”

Credence watched them go into the house, unsure whether to follow. Tina took his hand as if reading his thoughts. “Maybe…wait a while? I think he wouldn’t want too many people starin’ at him while he figures things out.”

“No one wants to talk about anythin’ when they’re starvin’,” Jacob chuckled optimistically. “First thing he wants is his creatures, though. He’s still Newt.”

The corner of Credence’s mouth twitched up, but the smile did not linger. There was hope, but that was enough.

Albus was leaning against the kitchen counter when they slipped inside and settled in the living room. The kitchen hummed with the sounds of cookery and dishes clattering. Soft French spilled fluently through the air while Tina sat next to Credence on the sofa. A radio played somewhere, trilling and crooning under the family’s conversation.

“Have you thought about…tellin’im or not?” she murmured. “About the two of you?”

Credence’s breath wavered in his throat as he peeked behind him toward the kitchen but admitted, “No…”

He looked to Queenie, whose hands were laced with Jacob’s over his knee. He seemed to be the one to read Credence’s thoughts this time. “I don’ know what to tell ya. All I knew after I lost my memory was feelings. Then I saw Queenie and…I didn’t _know_ nothin’, but…I knew her. I guess wait’n see if Newt recognizes you?”

“If he recognizes any of us,” Tina sighed. “He didn’t remember Alexandre or Florenc. So several weeks, at least, are missing.”

“That’s good, though, right?” Queenie voiced.

Tina heaved a breath and nodded. “It’s a difficult trade, but this is better.” Her head turned to hear the conversation and mood from the kitchen. She exhaled with more confidence, “This is better.”

Queenie leaned forward to grasp Credence’s gaze. “Would you want to tell him? Or would you want things to happen naturally again?”

Credence tried to think about it before he blinked all thoughts away in the wake of his emotions. He wanted to sleep next to Newt again. He wanted Newt to look at him again with warmth and promise. He wanted the liberty of Newt’s body and the safety of his mind and heart again.

He shook his head, overwhelmed. “I don’t know.”

He caught his face in his hands as he put his elbows on his knees. Soft, understanding looks passed among them while Tina rubbed his back —

“I don’t know why no one’s invited you all to the table,” Newt’s voice began. Credence sat up immediately as Newt approached the coffee table with a platter of food. “They’re not usually rude, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, honey!” Queenie chimed. “Thank you. It smells wonderful!”

He looked up at the sound of her voice as he set the tray down, but his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes vacant. He stood up straight, his hands rubbing over each other. “Am I right in assuming we know each other?”

“Yeah,” Queenie purred but quickly added, “but there’s no rush. We won’t be goin’ anywhere any time soon. Plenty a’time to get to know us.”

“You’re American?” Newt observed, his eyes now finding Tina.

“New Yorkers,” she smiled, nodding.

But Newt’s expression faded. “…York…I’ve already been to New York?”

“Just a few months ago,” Jacob provided with a grin. “It’s interestin’ because you sorta crash landed into a’our lives.”

Credence’s appetite was far away. _Not weeks. Months._

“Yes…that sounds like me,” Newt smiled shyly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jacob corrected. “We’re better for it.”

Newt was not expecting that. His fingers smoothed over the front of his jumper while he slowly turned to return to the kitchen…

Something in his steps pricked Credence’s gaze up. His heart startled to find Newt gazing at him from under his fringe before he continued past.

“Jacob.”

Queenie gasped quietly. Newt had paused before the kitchen. “Is…is your name Jacob?”

“Yes,” Jacob breathed. “Yeah, it is.”

“Jacob…and we met in New York.”

“Yeah. Went to the zoo an’everything,” he smiled again. Newt’s lips pressed together in something similar before he turned and left.

A collective heave of air moved among them as if they had been holding their breaths for a long time. They perked up again when the back door opened and Newt swept outside with a roll in his mouth and his hands holding the last of his dinner. Theseus rushed after him so they heard distantly, “Newt! What are you doing?”

“Going into my case?” Newt said in his soft way, like it was obvious.

“You don’t need to. Your friends have been managing everything fine,” Theseus said, his voice fading as he followed Newt into the case.

It was another moment before Credence lurched from the couch. “What’s wrong?” Tina exclaimed.

“Everything’s different from how he remembers it,” he answered, the door shutting once more behind him. Colette watched him tranquilly as he flew to the case and gripped the sides to lower himself in one go —

Theseus and Newt looked back at him from where they were just outside of the caravan. “Where’s the fire?” Theseus teased.

Credence gaped and recovered himself as Newt gazed openly at him. “I just thought it would be different in here than you remembered. I didn’t want it to be a shock or…something.”

Newt blinked at him. “Something?”

Theseus strolled past him to leave the case. “Suave,” he murmured in passing.

Credence glanced at him patting his shoulder, but then he was left with Newt. His eyes held Credence’s briefly before he turned to see the hippogriffs fluttering at their gate, cooing restlessly for him.

Newt looked around him. “You’re right, this isn’t how I remember it at all… Frank’s gone.”

“He made it home,” Credence involuntarily took a step forward.

“Good…that’s wonderful,” Newt said quietly, but then added in a lighter tone, “He was insufferable what it was raining outside. He was never meant to stay in here.”

He approached the hippogriff gate, his hands meeting the beaks of his eager wards. “If dragons are here, I’m surprised my mother’s whole stock isn’t in here.”

“These are yours,” Credence amended. “We rescued them from poachers at Ilvermorny.”

“Ilvermorny?” Newt rotated with surprise. “New York and Ilvermorny… I’ve lost a great deal, haven’t I?”

Credence did not have an answer for that. Thankfully, Newt continued, “Was it wonderful? Ilvermorny, I mean. I’ve only heard good things.”

Credence’s smile twitched to the side. “I won’t risk getting in between yours and Tina’s debate over Hogwarts or Ilvermorny.”

“Oh,” Newt breathed, but then he smirked. “Well it is hardly an argument.”

Newt’s eyes locked onto him as Credence softly laughed. His mirth vanished when he found Newt standing before him, a hand reaching to lightly touch his chest. Credence’s eyes flicked up but saw Newt’s pointed down, and realized he was wathcing Pickett climb out of the confines of his coat. Credence swallowed the gasp in his throat as Pickett bubbled and crooned as he returned to Newt…but Newt’s eyes were still on the blue fabric around Credence’s shoulders. 

“I only have it for him,” he rushed with a nod at Pickett, but Newt curtailed him.

“I noticed earlier,” he voiced softly. His eyes flicked to the caravan behind him. “You entered like a natural.”

Once again, Credence was caught without words and too many things to say.

“It suits you,” Newt added. His eyes returned to Credence’s face, where they wandered over his features. Something soft was there that Credence could not read. “Your dark hair…colors suit you.”

Newt moved past him. Credence could only huff a small laugh. “Queenie thinks so too.”

“Queenie?” Newt paused to look over his shoulder.

“The woman sitting with Jacob. And then her sister, Tina.”

Newt nodded as he absorbed their names. “Tina…and Queenie.”

Credence inhaled to reassure, “I’m not trying to make you remember anything. There isn’t a hurry or…there isn’t anything. I just want things to be comfortable for you.”

Newt smiled softly. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “Everyone’s been fed, so…whatever you want is fine.”

“Alright,” Newt voiced. Credence’s stamina was swiftly leaving him as he turned to reach the caravan. “Does…”

He stopped as easily as if Newt had pulled on a rope around his waist. “Does your name start with a C?”

He could see Newt searching in his thoughts, but when he looked to Credence for answer, his gaze was lost but wanting. “Credence,” he nodded. “My name’s Credence.”

Newt’s eyes softened. “Credence. Thank you, Credence.”

His brows lowered slightly. “For what?”

Newt smiled in his gentle way as he peeked up at him from under his fringe. “For being patient with me.”

Credence could only nod and leave as his heart pounded in his chest. Newt watched him go, before his eyes slid to the tent.

* * *

It was strange, sleeping in a house. Not that the Scamanders’ beds were uncomfortable, but it was not home. But Credence did not want Newt unnerved by a stranger sleeping in his case, so he continued to use the guest room Charlotte had originally granted to him.

He awoke before the sun had crested the trees around the house. The world was damp and humid as Credence went outside to see Colette’s head following Newt as he swatted her away. His French sounded scolding as he pushed her tongue and snout away and trotted into his case —

“No!” he warned, as his arm stuck out of the case to halt her lips. Credence laughed to himself as he rounded the case so Colette could see him as he shoved her aside.

“Excuse me…” he voiced, but it faded as he heard the rushed clatter of glass jars and wooden drawers. Lowering into the case so he made noise that announced himself, he asked, “Are you looking for something?”

Newt’s head jerked up but he spared him only a glance as he voiced raggedly, “Yes, but…it seems half my stores have gone…”

Credence froze. Newt’s eyes were red. “Have you slept?”

“Some.”

Credence finished descending the ladder. “What’s the matter?”

Newt’s anxious breathing pushed out, “The runespoors are still here, why haven’t I got powdered egg shells?”

His expression opened. “I have it. Hang on.”

Newt turned to see him leave and then followed at a slower pace inside the house, where Credence’s case was open just inside the door. He paused on the ladder at seeing Newt peering back at him. “Here,” he extended his hand with the jar.

“Thank you,” Newt said. His eyes lingered on Credence’s suitcase but he moved to the kitchen, where the kettle whistled instantly. A cup lowered itself from a cabinet while a parcel of tea plopped itself inside as Newt paused over the label around the jar. Credence stepped into the kitchen, waiting as Newt read his own handwriting.

“Oh,” he blurted as he realized Newt was not enchanting the dishes. He pulled Newt’s wand out of his pocket. “This will make things easier.”

Newt’s expression was unreadable as he slowly accepted his wand. “Yes, you’re right.” He turned back to his steeping tea and unscrewing the jar as he asked, “Is the tent yours?”

Caught with the unexpected, Credence almost said, _It’s ours_. “Um. Sometimes.”

Newt did not turn around as he repeated, “Sometimes.”

Credence’s gaze wandered over the blue expanse of Newt’s shoulders. “What?”

Instead of answering, Newt sprinkled white powder and copper flakes over his tea. The particles fizzed loudly, like serpentine hisses and roars, before dissolving into the water.

“I don’t know what’s happened to cripple my memory,” Newt exhaled, “but you don’t need to tread so lightly, Credence.”

But as he watched Newt throw his head back as if he were drinking liquor instead of tea, Credence countered, “You’re hurting. The headaches haven’t stopped.”

Newt finishedand caught his breath. “It’s nothing unmanageable, only briefly unpleasant.”

“Well, maybe it’s better to not remember,” Credence declared.

Something like mirth was in Newt’s voice as he turned enough for Credence to see his profile. “I don’t think you mean that.”

“I do if forcing memories puts you in pain. I’m not —”

He stopped. Newt’s chin lifted, his shoulders rotating to look at him. “You’re not what?”

_I’m not important enough for your pain._

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

Newt fully faced him. “You’re not protecting me by being dishonest with me.”

Credence was silent, unable to refute him but unable to tell him the truth. Eventually Newt restarted, “Did you live in my case?”

Credence inhaled a shaky breath and swallowed. “Yes.”

Newt absorbed that. “For a while? The clothes in the tent are not mine.” He watched Credence swallow again as rouge filled his cheeks. Newt’s eyes went to the suitcase by the door. “Not many people know that Madam Malkin also makes luggage.”

Credence blinked, slightly puzzled. “I didn’t.”

Newt pressed his lips together in a patient smile. “For loyal patrons, she makes the items necessary to carry her wares. And yours has quite my enchanted touch.”

He slowly nodded. “You gave it to me.”

“So,” he began, “I’ve given you an incredibly illegal piece of luggage, along with my best medicines…but your clothes are in mine. Even so, you’re wearing my coat. Pickett trusts you, and you interact with my case as well as I do. And now it seems you’ve kept my wand for me. I would say we must be in a relationship, but,” his brows lowered into a furrow, “I haven’t had many of those.”

It was Credence’s turn to frown. “Why shouldn’t you think so?”

Newt surprised him with a laugh as cream and sugar found their way onto the counter and he poured another cuppa. “Living and working in my sort of career,” he said bashfully to the tea while he stirred, “Good looking people don’t usually care for it.”

Credence was dumbfounded. “Good — Good looking? You think I’m good looking?”

Newt smirked at him, but there was something sad in it. “If this is your first time hearing it…perhaps I was wrong. Whoever you’re with, they ought to tell you that you are beloved.”

Credence’s heart leapt and froze in his throat as Newt approached him with the cup, and placed it in his hands. Stunned, he looked down at the beverage as Newt continued past him to return outside.

Tea spilled as Credence set it down and ran after him. “Newt!”

He had succeeding in startling him, but Newt was quiet as Credence heaved, “You’re not wrong! We are. We are together — at least…we were. But I…it wasn’t long, so I’m not expecting you to remember. I’m not expecting anything.”

Newt’s eyes were slowly widening as he looked away, stationary as he absorbed this. Credence pressed, “Please don’t think you’re obligated to do anything. I want you to be happy and safe, even if it’s not with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be happy?” Newt’s gaze returned to him. “To wake up and discover someone loves you. How lucky!” he grinned, his eyes warm and wet. 

Relief rushed out of Credence, ragged and coarse, yet it left him feeling whole again. He inhaled as Newt took a step toward him. “But I must ask for time. Time…to wrap my head around things again.”

Credence nodded fervently. “I know. Whatever you need.”

The muscles in Newt’s jaw ticked slightly as he pressed his lips into his shy smile and then said on a lighter note, “I think it’s less what I need and more what the dragons crave. Are they as selfish as I remember?”

Credence smiled. “Yes.”

“Oh goodness, mama won’t be pleased,” he moaned, doing something of an effort to comb his hair. “Three dragons, how on earth do I feed three dragons?”

Theseus’s voice startled them from where he leaned against the house. “There are still deer in the forest. Surely you haven’t forgotten our acreage. There’s enough to feed them for a time. Frankly I — ”

Shoulders leapt at the explosion of the barn. Theseus and Credence were beside Newt in an instant as stone crumbled and beams splintered. Florenc and Alexandre rolled over the grass, obliviously wrestling.

“Oh…no…” Theseus breathed as he slowly turned to look up at the house. He immediately set to enchanting it with fortifications while Newt withdrew his wand and stones began bobbing and climbing back into place —

“NEWT.”

He startled anew. “Yes?” he turned anxiously to face his mother storming out of the house. A robe was cinched tightly around her waist, her long hair tossed to the side as if she had just risen from her pillow.

“They can’t stay here,” she ordered measuredly.

Theseus was the one who answered as he came around the house. “No problem! Just weren’t prepared, is all. She’s sturdy now.”

He threw a sphere of fire as large as a melon at the house. It bounced off like a rubber ball, but as he hosed water over it, Charlotte did not seem convinced. “Just give us a moment to rebuild the barn,” her eldest defended, striding past her to get to it.

She sent a worried look at Colette, who observed the young dragons at their play but did not rise. “Newt,” she sighed, “one movement from that one and everything we have is gone, let alone the little- _er_ ones.”

“Colette is fine,” he pleaded softly. “She may be large —”

“She’s titanic,” she retorted.

“But she never destroys things...intentionally,” he added a bit too late. To his mother’s stern look he queried, “Where am I to take them? Colette will follow me where ever I go, and the young ones aren’t fit to be on their own so close to muggles.”

Credence stood next to him. “Colette has an egg in her mouth.”

“Really?” Newt chimed eagerly.

“We don’t know if it will hatch,” he apologized softly.

Newt shook his head. “If Colette is incubating it, then it’s alive.”

Charlotte cut in, “ _Four_ dragons, Newt? And how long before they calm down like her?”

“Oh, she’s nearly ancient,” he remarked, and then realized, “I don’t suppose we have that kind of time.”

Credence glanced at Theseus gesturing something toward his mother behind Newt’s back. She frowned slightly at him but refocused on Newt, “What do you suggest, then?”

“Don’t say it!” Theseus called as the roof rebuilt itself over the stone walls of the barn.

“I have to leave,” he considered.

“You bloody said it,” Theseus groaned.

Charlotte exclaimed, “You’re not going anywhere — why on earth would you think that’s what I meant? I want enchantments that will keep these dragons from leveling your inheritance. We may need to expand as well. It’s not like the Potters will mind. They haven’t used their ancestral acreage in centuries. Shite neighbors.”

“His inheritance?” Theseus interrupted. “What am I getting, a tree?”

“It’s hard to say, what with both of you choosing death defying careers,” she silenced. “The next will I draw up may have Credence getting everything.”

Credence made an involuntary sound that could only be described as a combination of “Huh?” and a choked cough.

“No one’s dying,” Newt calmed. “Are you sure we’ll be able to expand? The cost —”

“I wasn’t necessarily suggesting to ask them, but I’m also not expecting pennies from that book deal,” she curtailed.

Newt nodded, the matter settled. “I understand.”

Their discussion only diverted to the blossom of flames arriving over the grass. Albus strolled over the grass with a croissant in his hand. “Oh good! I’m not the only early riser,” he said around chewing. “I say _rising_. Never really slept…”

He frowned contemplatively as the flames shrank into Fawkes’ plumage and the creature dug his talons into Newt’s shoulder. “Oh!” he exclaimed as the bird wrenched him into the air, carrying him over the meadow as if Newt weighed nothing at all. With remarkable gentility, he threw Newt onto the grass. Perching on Newt’s chest, he weighed Newt down like a sack heavy with rubies and gold. Colette all but pounced over the pair of them, sniffing angrily at the bird, who merely smacked Newt in the face with energetic wings when he tried to rise.

“So everything is back to normal, then?” Albus said conversationally.

Charlotte fixed him in a look. “We never had dragons, Albus.”

“Really?” he said incredulously. “You fooled me.”

“What is your bird doing?” she interrogated.

“Does it matter?” he chuckled, finishing his breakfast. “Don’t feign surprise. This is domestic for you. You missed it. England is far more interesting with Newt in it. I will say, though, phoenix travel is a great deal calmer than dragons.”

He brushed powdered sugar from his hands as he strolled to the house. “Is Claude awake? Never mind, I’ll start the eggs. Is it too early for wine?”

Charlotte and Credence watched him stride into the house as easily as a frequent guest does. The latter voiced, “He seems more relaxed.”

“Hm,” Charlotte acknowledged, but her tone drew Credence’s gaze. Before he could ask what was wrong, she turned to where Theseus was standing over Newt and Fawkes. “It’s a tall order, but make sure those two don’t do anything stupid. Breakfast shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“What can they do in a few minutes?” Credence laughed.

Charlotte gave him a knowing stare as she squeezed his arm. “Let’s not find out.”

She followed Albus into the house while Credence went to stand beside Theseus, who was doing more observing than helping Newt. “Charlotte says breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Oh good,” the eldest chimed. “I’m starving.”

Credence gazed at Newt blinking against Fawkes’s tears sliding past his temples. Theseus remarked, “Headstrong bird. Then again, can’t expect Dumbledore with a dog.”

Colette, in her sniffing of Fawkes, came close enough for Newt to grip a tooth. He was pulled to his feet, but between rising too fast and Fawkes landing on his shoulder, he swayed and stumbled. Theseus gripped his arm and pulled it around his shoulders as he guided Newt to the house. “Oof, steady on. Merlin, I can’t believe you just reached into a dragon’s mouth.”

Claude was beating eggs and pouring them into a skillet when they entered the kitchen. A bread loaf nearly as large as the table was baking right on the surface, bloating and roasting golden brown until it finished. Albus had poured himself a rosé and was drinking contently while Charlotte inquired, “What are we readying for?”

“What?” Theseus said as he dropped Newt into a chair.

“I’ve never seen you drink, Albus,” Charlotte continued.

Claude peeked over his shoulder at the goings on while Albus waved the flute nonchalantly. “I merely drink to Newt’s health and all of our wellbeing. It just so happens I never see a minister without a drink first.”

Newt’s head lifted. “The minister?”

“The Minister of Magic is coming here?” Theseus frowned.

Albus smirked gently at the family’s surprise. “Alas, I cannot fault them for noticing two men flying over our shores. Jacob was kind enough to fill me in on the dragons’ secret but the ministry is thoroughly baffled. It is so out of character for the ministry to do their jobs adequately, I cannot expect them to behave any differently while a secret is blocking their efforts.”

His blue eyes fell fondly over Newt, who realized, “Me?”

“Are you surprised?” Albus chuckled while Claude spooned eggs onto Newt’s plate. “Though the Scamander gentlemen will never be known as dragon riders. What a blessing. Fame is a fickle and sharp double-ended sword.”

Newt sent an amazed and puzzled look toward his brother, although Theseus was focused on something else. “The minister needs to know Grindelwald is moving.”

“To be sure,” Albus agreed. “We shall have a great deal to talk about. He should be here just after breakfast.”

The Goldsteins came downstairs and together, the family broke their fast while Fawkes eagerly accepted Newt’s bacon. After sipping a bit of fire whiskey Charlotte poured for him, he fell soundly asleep on Albus’s shoulder. Conversation was remarkably normal among them, ranging from Quidditch matches to Newt asking Theseus, “Is Hector Fawley still minister?”

Theseus nodded with his mouth full of potatoes. “And just as bad at it.”

“What’s bad about ‘im?” Queenie wondered.

“Nothing outright evil,” Albus provided, “however kindness paired with naivety makes a lacklustre performance in volatile government.”

Credence did not know what to expect. He had only seen America’s muggle president and heard about it’s magical one, Seraphina Picquery. When the shields around the property glinted with the arrival of a stranger, the family stood from the table and collectively disapparated to the road. The lone figure there surprised him in an anticlimactic way.

“Good morning,” the minister lifted his hat to them. “And hello to you as well, Albus. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“No? I’ll have to do better,” he chimed.

As they approached the barrier to stand opposite the Minister of Magic, Credence saw that he was an older, clean shaven man with dark silver hair, and a well made three-piece suit under his charcoal robe. Something in him was older fashioned, like Charlotte’s dress over her trousers; perhaps it was his bow tie, or the style of his collar were distinguishably not quite of this century.

“Might we talk someplace comfortable? I do appreciate all of you coming here to meet me, but I really only need the attentions of Mr. Theseus and Newt Scamander.”

“Someplace comfortable sounds lovely,” Albus answered for them. Credence suddenly felt the weight of Fawkes being transferred on his shoulder. “I think the gentlemen would agree that the pub or the café in town is an appropriate spot.”

“Preferably someplace private,” the minister corrected.

Charlotte answered, “Forgive us for not inviting a Ministry employee into our home.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he understood, “although that does warrant some suspicion.”

“Suspicion only on my part,” Charlotte agreed. “The Ministry is a colony of ants; if one finds a way to the sugar, all the rest follow.”

Credence heard Albus chuckle quietly in his chest while Theseus stepped forward. “I’ll go with you, minister. Newt and Albus will follow just after us. I have new information to give you and the road is as private as we will require.”

The minister did not seem overly content but he stepped aside for Theseus to join him —

“One moment,” he halted. “Do I recognize you?” He was looking at Tina, Queenie, and Jacob. He smiled, “Yes, from New York.”

“Auror Tina Goldstein,” Theseus introduced. “Her sister, Queenie, and Jacob Kowalski.”

“Yes, the muggle, right?” the minister inquired. “I’m pleased everything worked out then, though from no help on my part. I am sorry for that business with your case, Newt.”

The person in question blinked at him but said nothing as the minister continued, “As my citizen, I should have pulled you under my jurisdiction, not left you to the Americans’.”

“Yes. That would have been the more appropriate solution,” Albus agreed in his kind yet blunt way. “Go on, Theseus, we’ll be just along.”

“May I, minister?” Theseus offered his arm. Together they disapparated down the road.

“What information does Theseus have to give?” Newt asked while Dumbledore cleaned his spectacles before sliding them over his hair.

“I reckon he wishes to tell Hector your recent whereabouts and why you will be appearing rather vacant during our discussion. It would be unfortunate to remember something painful on such a lovely day. Shall we beat them there?”

He held out his own arm to Newt, and they disappeared.

* * *

The barman was less than eager to host the Scamanders again, but he made no comment as they took a table in the back of the pub. Albus made quick work sound proofing their corner while Minister Fawley settled in a chair. Whether it was his discussion with Theseus or he was finally at liberty to be himself, the minister appeared worried and fatigued.

“Well then. It is no great secret how the older families feel about all this, but it is no salve that houses like the Lestranges are involved. Large and powerful, that lot.”

Newt’s eyes moved between Theseus and Albus as he absorbed this but he remained silent.

“I’m sure you can guess which others are involved,” the latter said.

“Of course, but that is no reassurance either,” Hector exclaimed. “The great families are great for a reason, Albus.”

However the man laughed. “There is no particular power in bigotry and pride. Grindelwald’s numbers may have risen while the Ministry was ignoring him but do not think the masses are without their own minds. All it takes is on individual to think for themselves and stand against the tide.”

“We have not been ignoring him,” the minister refuted.

“That’s good to hear,” Albus declared but none of them were convinced. “Then what is your next move?”

“Damage control is our highest priority at the moment,” he began to explain. Albus’s countenance began to fall lower and lower, his ice blue eyes glimmering. “We’ve confirmed certain houses’ loyalties: the Weasleys, the Shacklebolts, the Longbottoms, and the Potters, thank the stars. Of course the Scamanders and you, Albus. The Blacks have been remarkably neutral in all this but we cannot trust that.”

“Damage control,” Albus repeated. “Damage has already been done and collateral mayhem is already guaranteed. But you are still under the illusion that _damage control_ is the highest priority?”

“The alternative is _war_ , Albus!” he exclaimed. “And this will be quite out of my hands if the war department sinks their teeth into this, which they have been trying to do ever since Grindelwald escaped the first time!”

“Heaven and Merlin forbid you actually use your post as minister to decide what the departments do,” Albus uttered unforgivingly.

“You don’t understand,” Hector pleaded. “The Department of Magical Warfare has already voiced its unanimous decision to use Azkaban’s personnel should they be let off the leash.”

He had succeeded in silencing Dumbledore. Theseus picked up, “Azkaban person — _there are no Azkaban personnel!_ They want to use the fucking dementors?”

The minister sighed as he sat back in his chair. “I never complain about you being right, Albus. In fact, I relish your input. There have been more times than I can count where you’ve made my job a hell of a lot easier, but this is something else. I wish you were not correct. Mayhem, collateral or otherwise, is exactly what we are facing. These poor muggles have no idea how we might put their Great War to shame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credence, you thirsty boy, you didn't last a day without spilling everything.  
> Meanwhile Newt's like, How did I land someone so cute???

**Author's Note:**

> A MASSIVE thank you to Abeillino for being my French editor haha _~merci beaucoup~_
> 
> You can visit me on [Tumblr](http://pondermoniums.tumblr.com/) or I'm more active on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Pondermoniums) haha all are welcome.


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